


Out of the dark

by PrincessCharming



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babyfic, Crossover with MyAnna Buring's character from In The Dark (2017), Dreams, Eventual romance modern Tissaia/Yennefer, F/F, Flashbacks, Memory Loss, References to Infertility, References to OCD, References to Suicide Attempt, References to past child sexual abuse, References to past infidelity, Slow Burn, Witcher AU, Witcher lore mainly from the Netflix show, references to internalised homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:20:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessCharming/pseuds/PrincessCharming
Summary: After giving birth to her baby, Detective Inspector Helen Weekes begins having strange dreams in which she is a powerful sorceress named Tissaia from another land. She also remembers a stubborn inconvenient arsehole with amethyst-coloured eyes who will stop at nothing to get what she wants.Modern AU (Eventual Tissaia/Yennefer romance)
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 49
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tried not to ship this and failed hard. Also I accidentally got obsessed with MyAnna Buring. I loved her in In The Dark and decided to smush the plot into a modern Tissaia/Yennefer fic along with flashbacks that expand their scenes together from the Netflix show.

_“Can anyone hear me?...”_

The woman’s voice, soft and entreating, called out as she stepped slowly through the fog of battle. Her words were not spoken aloud, they travelled telepathically searching for a response far and wide. No-one answered. 

_“Is anyone still alive?...”_

The woman was strong yet she needed help. She was injured. Betrayed by a friend under duress. The smell of death was everywhere.

_“Tissaia, I need you...”_

_“Tissaia?”_

_“Tissaia?”_

* * *

“Are you awake, Tissaia?“

She blinked herself awake, trying to focus on the young nurse in lilac-coloured scrubs standing beside her hospital bed. The nurse was holding a clipboard and pen, looking at her expectantly. 

She frowned. “What did you call me?”

The nurse smiled. “I said ‘Are you awake, Helen’. Would you prefer to be called Ms Weekes?”

“No, no, that’s fine. I thought I heard… Never mind.”

“I see you’re still in the woods. Take a second to wake up.”

Detective Inspector Helen Weekes pushed herself up in bed with some discomfort. She’d had a strange dream. She could barely remember it now. She tried to chase what was going on in the dream, what was happening, who and where she was, but the memories fled faster than she could catch them. 

The events of the previous day came back to her with much more clarity and explained the soreness between her legs and the plastic padded maternity underwear that she wore. Her muscles ached all over her body, worse than she’d ever had in her life even at training camp, and she felt crampy, wet, and miserable.

The nurse strapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm. “How’s the pain?”

_It’s a fucking delight_ , she thought sarcastically. _It feels like I’ve been ripped apart down there_. 

“I’ve had worse.”

“Scale of 1 to 10?”

“Four.” _Liar._

The nurse pursed her lips and nodded sympathetically. She ripped the velcro cuff away and started jotting notes into the chart. “Alright. I’ll get you some analgesia. We’ll have you up for a short walk down the corridor later this afternoon. How does that sound?”

She grimaced. “Terrible. But necessary I suppose.”

The nurse chuckled and turned around at the sound of the door opening behind her. A second older nurse in navy scrubs held the door open as she pushed a plastic cot on wheels through the doorway. There was a little blanket-wrapped bundle riding in the cot.

“Oh, look who’s here! Someone’s come to visit.”

The older nurse wheeled the cot until it was next to the bed. She had a strong Northern accent and matronly face. “Baby had a good night. Was getting lonely out there and wanted to come see Mum.”

Helen felt her heart jump into her throat at the sight of her baby. She reached out for the tiny bundle who was swaddled in the standard-issue NHS baby blanket. Seconds felt like years until the weight settled into her arms. Her chest felt full to bursting with love for this little blob of a creature. She breathed in the baby’s scent. God she smelled amazing. A riot wouldn’t have been able to tear her eyes away from staring at the perfect face of her daughter.

“She’s okay then? I got punched in the stomach when I was 10 weeks along. I’d just found out and I was still working in the field-”

The young nurse placed a hand on her shoulder. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry. So have you thought of any names yet?”

Helen remembered finding a hand-written list in her dead partner’s things. He’d wanted a flowery girl’s name. Honouring his memory by choosing Lily or Holly was an option. But she’d always hated flower names. She wondered how someone like herself would have fared, having to introduce herself with an overly feminine name to some drug dealer who refused to cooperate in interrogation or to some department colleague who still had the belief that women shouldn’t serve on the force. Her short stature made it hard enough to be taken seriously.

She shook her head. “I thought I’d know which name when I saw its face.”

“Give it time. Get to know her and she’ll tell you her name.”

“Right.” She tried not to scoff at the sappy sentiment. 

The baby’s face scrunched when the little puff of air hit her face. Unhappy grizzling noises followed. Two tiny eyes opened halfway revealing dark blue eyes, unfocused yet searching. The baby books that she’d skimmed through had said something about newborns not being able to see properly for the first few weeks. 

Helen spent the rest of the day trying to rest in between visits with the baby. The pain settled to a manageable level, thanks to the drugs, but not enough that it would let her sleep. As promised, a nurse got her up to get cleaned up in the bathroom and to go for a slow walk down the corridor. Before she knew it evening visiting hours had arrived.

Her Dad and his partner Sid came with flowers, a basket full of disposable nappies, packets of wipes, and a teddy that was at least twice the size of the baby. Helen tried to bear it with good humour, but she couldn’t help feeling like they were treating her with kid gloves -- as though they only saw Helen, the abuse survivor with the dead partner and an incarcerated bastard of an ex-lover. Not Helen Weekes, Detective Inspector, Manchester Metro P.D., who just happened to have an infant accessory now. Her sister Jenny and her husband turned up, thankfully without their three kids. Her dear friend Phil dropped by with a bottle of non-alcoholic pink champagne and stayed just long enough to make her laugh and feel somewhat like herself again. 

There were plenty of cuddles and photos taken all around. Everyone commented on the colour of the baby’s eyes, which were a deep dark blue. 

“It might change,” said her Dad. “You and your sister had blue eyes at that age too.”

“Dad. We’ve _still_ got blue eyes.” 

“I know, I know! I was jus’ saying. Don’t get your heart set on the colour.”

“What colour were Paul’s eyes?” said Peter, bless him, having no idea what he’d really asked. 

Helen looked back down at the baby so that they wouldn’t see the lies. “Brown.”

It made fuck-all difference now what colour Paul’s eyes were. Or Adam’s. As far as she was concerned her baby didn’t have either of their eyes, nor any other features belonging to them. She vowed she wasn’t going to torture herself by searching for a resemblance of biological fatherhood in her daughter’s face. She would never know the truth and was determined not to let it matter.

Later, once they were alone. Helen trailed a finger down the baby’s soft cheek. Tiny eyes popped open again, staring straight back at her. The baby’s eyes were so blue they were almost violet. The colour nagged at her, begging her to remember. 

DI Weekes had met many different people in the course of her career and so she dismissed the persistent feeling that she’d seen eyes like that before.

* * *

“Why?! Why do you want a _baby_.”

Tissaia couldn’t understand it. After all this time wondering what had become of her protegee after she abandoned her post at the court of King Demavend, she learned that Yennefer had surfaced in a backwater village called Rinde. For _this_. Taunting the Brotherhood with her continued existence and all for what. Over a baby. Over a lost chance at motherhood?

How could she want a role so common, so banal, so much less than she was worth? It was the same all over the Continent, for peasant and noble women alike. Their lives revolved around babies as a result of men's pleasure, men's choices, men's power. Sorceresses, though, were meant for more important ventures than motherhood. Their beauty, intellect, and influence endured far longer than a single lifetime.

Of course Yennefer would want the one thing that she’d been denied. She had always been perverse like that. She’d been a stubborn thorn in Tissaia’s side ever since she’d been pulled out of a pigpen. She was impossible to ignore, impossible to forget.

“I know it was you.” Yennefer stared at Tissaia’s reflection in her vanity mirror. Her eyes were hard and the colour of amethyst. There was no hint of the mutual respect and fondness that had formed between them by the end of Yennefer’s tenure at Aretuza.

The Arch-mistress sat on the edge of the bed and idly fingered the gossamer curtains. “To what are you referring.”

“' _The Poisoned Source_ ’ by Tissaia de Vries. I finally got around to reading it. It was you who instituted the policy at Aretuza that all sorceresses be sterilised upon ascension. But not because it’s necessary for performing the enchantments. That was all bullshit!”

Tissaia’s eyes narrowed. “It is necessary. For the good of all involved, none more so than for the sake of the potential children.”

“No. You took that potential from me. You took everything from me.”

“I gave you everything I could. You still can’t see that.”

“I want more. I deserve more.” Yennefer leapt up and in a flash she was leaning over Tissaia, bearing over her like an angry thunderstorm. But Tissaia could catch lightning with her hands and did not flinch. It was many years since she’d been able to reach out telepathically and find what was in her protegee’s mind. It was as impenetrable as a steel vault now.

“For what it’s worth…” Tissaia said softly. “If I could reverse it for you, I would.”

“You only say that because you know you can’t. It's beyond you.”

“Believe what you need to. But for pity’s sake forgo the charlatans and quacks with the supposed infertility cures. Their ignorance is understandable, yours is pathetic. I taught you better than that.”

Yennefer snarled. “You sit there with your intact uterus saying how ridiculous of me it is to want a child when you could have one whenever you want. You still have a choice, I don’t!”

“Yennefer, dear.” said Tissaia, looking up at her with her insufferably calm countenance. “If you wanted a child you could have your pick of the unclaimed street urchins that litter the Continent. You could call it your own, smother it with love, and no-one would object. What you want is to be loved in return. To not be looked upon and rejected. To feel worthy of it all. You think a child birthed from your own body could never grow to hate you? There are no guarantees.”

A cold blank expression spread over Yennefer’s face and she leaned back up to her full height. “We’re done. I will never come back to Aretuza. But I will find a way to get what I want.”

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and lovely comments on the first chapter! Very much appreciated. I'm newly back to writing after a few years break. 
> 
> All of Helen's dreams are flashbacks to events that happened in the Witcher universe. In this chapter Helen/Tissaia gets to meet modern Yennefer :)
> 
> I forgot to say last time that this contains references to major spoilers for In The Dark (in case you're planning on watching it unspoiled...)

Two weeks later Helen was still plagued by dreams she couldn't remember. They weren't nightmares as far as she could tell. Every time she woke the images would disappear like smoke, leaving her with only the vague feeling that she was missing something important. Or someone. She chalked it up to grief.

She and the baby had been discharged from hospital in due time and had settled into the flat. Her car was still missing so her sister Jenny drove them home. Upon returning to the flat she realised that Jenny and Darren must've let themselves in so they could set up the cot and changing table and all of the other crap she'd neglected to do anything with. Her late partner Paul's belongings were conspicuously out of sight now too and the door to the spare bedroom where he’d kept his gym equipment and mountain bike was closed.

Her boss, Inspector Gosford, came by the flat after calling ahead, to let her know that they'd found her car at a train station. The P.D. had also found the body of the young man, dead by execution-style gunshot wound, who'd driven her to the hospital. She'd closed her eyes at the news, full of regret that she hadn't been able to help him more. He’d been so young yet became tangled up in a gang of drug-dealers. There'd been so much needless death and she’d worked relentlessly to uncover the truth right up until her waters broke.

After only a few days she'd barely left the flat, which was a mess, and it was really starting to bother her. She tried to sleep whenever the baby did, but she was beset by cramps most of the day and night. The pain, worse while nursing, was almost as bad as the contractions had been. Almost.

Helen sat on the couch trying to get the screaming baby to calm down enough to latch. Jenny and the community nurse were there, discussing her situation between themselves over the din. 

"It’s not unheard of," said Triss. "The pain shouldn't last longer than a few weeks."

"She's not sleeping either. I think she could use some help," said Jenny.

"We'll keep up with the home visits for now."

"I meant a different kind of help. Look at this place. She's always been a neat freak but this is ridiculous. She's up all night tidying and washing instead of sleeping. I remember one time she-"

"Jenny!" The baby let out a wail again. Helen sighed in frustration. "Give over. Sorry, Triss, I'm sure you have better things to do than listen to us argue."

The baby fed finally and then went down in the cot without too much trouble.

Anytime anyone came to the flat it was suspiciously tidy according to Jenny. As though Helen had been arranging and rearranging the baby's things. Then Jenny, the little shit, deliberately knocked over some folded laundry and watched as Helen immediately had to fold them, smoothing the fabric of the bibs until they were perfectly aligned again.

"Your OCD's back." 

She sighed and ran her fingers through her short auburn hair. "No. It's just-... This flat is tiny and everything's a fucking mess all the time. How can someone so small go through so many clothes."

"Helen."

"I'll deal with it. I've got it under control."

"Too much control is exactly your problem, Hels."

That conversation had earned her future self 10-12 weeks of therapy for the sequel to the dormant obsessive behaviours that she'd beaten once before at age 17. It was frustrating to be back at that place mentally again. Especially now when she was supposed to be putting all her energy into keeping a baby alive and well. Not to mention potentially jeopardising her chances of going back to her job at some point.

* * *

After her first consult she was feeling much less negative. Her counselor cited bereavement, stressful job, obsessive personality, blah blah blah… as reasons for why she'd fallen into old patterns again. Helen hadn't dropped the bomb about reporting her historical child abuse case yet. And she certainly made no mention of her dreams (there was nothing to tell anyway). But she'd been through this before and she'd do it again. Hopefully keeping it on the downlow so that work didn’t catch wind of it.

She'd agreed to meet Jenny for a beverage at her favourite cafe after her appointment. But by the time she got there, after wrangling the baby's pram, the baby's nappy bag, and the baby herself, Jenny had finished her latte and looked ready to leave.

"I have to go get the boys from football. I ordered for you."

Helen parked the pram and slumped in the wooden cafe chair exhausted from the relatively short trip. "I just got here! Do you have any idea how long it took."

Jenny gave her a sly grin. "Remember who you're talking to. Mum of three?"

"Yes," she pouted theatrically. “You could at least sit here with me for five minutes and brag about how yours are all potty trained now.”

Jenny slung her handbag strap over her shoulder and reached out to put a hand on her fidgeting one. “Stop mithering. I have to go but I’ve arranged for someone to meet you here at half-past.”

“You  _ what _ ?”

“You need help and Triss has a friend out of work, she’s going to be your nanny.”

Helen screwed up her face. “Jen, no. I’m not having some stranger in my home looking after my baby.”

“Look, she’ll be here soon. Just meet her and see if you like her. If not, we’ll find someone else. She's a friend of Triss's so how bad could she be."

“She could be a psycho or a serial killer for all we know.”

"You've said it yourself, Detective, ' _ statistically almost no-one is a serial killer _ '."

Helen continued to protest and glared at Jen until she slipped out of the door and across the street. The last thing she wanted right now was to meet someone new and put on a polite face. The waitress came to set down a glass on the uneven wooden table in front of her.

"Decaf latte?" 

She sighed. "Unfortunately."

"Wow. Tissaia, that's quite a mood. Is this what I have to look forward to?"

Helen glanced up to see not the waitress but a young woman taking a seat across from her. She was dressed in black skinny jeans, black leather jacket, a white blouse underneath. She was glamourous in an attention-grabbing way with glossy black hair and light purple eyes that had to be coloured contacts. Her skin was flawless. She wore no jewellery except for an obsidian star on a black velvet choker around her neck.

"What did you- wait, who are you?"

"Yennefer. Triss's friend."

Helen forced a smile. "Right. My sister told me you were coming. Her name is Jennifer too."

"Mine's Yennefer. With a Y." She flashed a smile, full of white perfect teeth, and extended a hand across the table. The hand was warm with short nails that were painted black.

"Helen." 

"So." Yennefer nodded at the pram behind Helen's chair. "Is that your baby."

"Could be. I picked a random one when I left the hospital. What about you - committed any crimes lately? Murdered anyone?"

Yennefer smirked. "Not today. But the day's not done yet."

Helen rolled her eyes at the cliched joke. This woman wasn't nearly as charming as she obviously thought she was. “Did Triss tell you I’m a copper?”

“She did. Made me flush all my gear before I left. Shame.” 

“You’ve got experience nannying then, looking after children?”

Yennefer pressed her lips together and squinted. “Well, I read Politics at Oxford and I have  _ seen _ children. I’m vaccinated and house-trained. Mostly.”

“Oxford,” Helen scoffed under her breath, taking another sip of her caffeine-less coffee. “Knew I heard a posh accent.”

“Posh, me? I’ll have you know I was born in a pigpen.”

“Look, enough jokes. I appreciate you and Triss setting this up. I do. But I don’t want to lead you on and waste your time thinking there’s a job here. I don’t need any help with the baby.”

“Fair enough. I could cook or clean for you.”

Helen gave her a look of disbelief. “Wow. Oxford’s really gone downhill.”

“You’re suspicious of me.”

“Should I be? You do realise I’m one phone call away from getting your entire background check.”

Yennefer shrugged, apparently nonplussed.

Helen didn’t think the woman was lying. It would be stupid to lie bald-faced about facts that could easily be checked. There was something about her though… She wasn’t sure why she suspected the background check would come back clean. But something didn’t fit here. Why would a beautiful smart young woman moonlight as a nanny. And why would she admit she didn’t have experience with children and make jokes about drugs if she was hoping to get the job? It didn’t fit. The investigator in her wanted to know why but she pushed that desire away. There were other things to worry about.

Mewling noises behind her reminded her that she was due to nurse soon. She hadn’t breastfed in public yet, and although she figured she’d have to get used to it soon enough, she wasn’t exactly keen on whipping out her swollen tits in front of Yennefer in a crowded cafe. And if she didn’t leave soon she’d end up leaking.

The baby let out a wail. 

“Right. That’s my cue.”

As soon as Helen got up to leave, Yennefer stood too, and in a proper display of chivalry the tall beauty moved the tight-packed cafe chairs out of the way so that she could manoeuvre the pram towards the door. She left Yennefer alone in the cafe and crossed the quiet street carefully checking for side traffic. Figuring she wasn’t going to make it home in time she decided to nurse the baby in the backseat of her red VW Golf. 

It wasn’t until after she’d switched sides that she saw Yennefer leave the cafe in the car’s side mirror. The woman got into a shiny black BMW that was parked in a loading bay right in front of the cafe. Helen reached into the nappy bag one-handed and retrieved her phone to send a text message to her contact at the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency. 

**Weekes:** Need a favour. Check reg BA19NLT

**Carl (DVLA):** Done.

* * *

Night had fallen but the battle was already over. It was chilly and smoke clung to the ground, aglow from scattered embers that were still burning. There was silence.

The sorceress stood with difficulty, breathing heavily as the smoke irritated her lungs that were already inflamed from inhaling dimeritium. The grass beneath her feet was dry yet unburned. She'd been spared the fiery death that had been meted out to the attacking Nilfgaardians. Her eyes stung with smoke and tears. She looked at the empty rocky outcrop.

But there was no sign of the saviour of the battle.

"Yennefer?" whispered Tissaia. 

Foolish girl.

Lesson one.  _ Summon _ chaos from the world around you. Reserve your own stores or you will be consumed in the spell. You are to be a conduit for chaos, not to become chaos itself.

There was no sign of her. Had Yennefer let herself be used up? Had she disappeared, having spent her own chaos after the fire magic she'd gathered had burned out? This was  _ not _ how it was supposed to go… The girls were not supposed to die. Not before her. Not  _ for _ her.

Unable to reach out telepathically, she reduced herself to calling out into the darkness of the barren field.

_ "Yennefer?" _

_ "Yennefer!" _

* * *

Helen awoke from her sleep with a jerk. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the lovely encouraging comments! They've made my day/week. I've been getting a lot of writing done lately and I've nearly worked out the whole outline for this thing. Thanks for reading :)

"Oh, fuck me!" Helen cursed herself, stopping herself in her tracks. She'd exited the family doctor surgery through the wrong door and was now faced with the conundrum of the pram and the half-dozen steps in front of her that led down to street level. 

The baby's whimpers were getting louder and she herself was tempted to scream of frustration. The vaccination needles were of course necessary but she hadn’t expected to feel guilty for letting something pierce her daughter’s perfect skin on purpose. Seeing her baby in pain had been downright awful. All she wanted now was to go home and let go where no-one would see.

She tossed up her options. She was tired and couldn't be fucked going back through the narrow waiting room and out through the door that led to the disability access ramp. But jumping the pram down that many steps would only upset the baby more. _Fuck it._ _Fuck everything. Especially this._

Helen swung the pram and took a step back to turn around only to bump into someone.

"Sorry, could I maybe get past-" she said sharply.

"Wow. Your patience is five-foot-nothing too."

A taller black-haired woman in a black leather mini and a fur-trimmed parka stood there. Black lace stockings and Doc Martens completed the look. Helen's eyes went wide when she recognised who it was. It wasn’t like she knew two people who had purple-coloured eyes.

"What are _you_ doing here?!" said Helen.

Yennefer looked bemused and held up a scrap of paper that looked like a prescription. "I'm meeting my drug dealer. Why. What are you doing here. Are you stalking me."

"Me?!" Helen huffed. "No, I had an appointment."

"Need some help getting down the stairs?"

"No, thanks. I've got it."

Yennefer nodded. She pushed past Helen and bent down to lift the front of the pram. "You don't want to go back inside. A kid just spewed in the hall."

Helen sighed inwardly and acquiesced to the help. The two of them managed to set the pram down at the bottom of the stairs with no trouble. Yennefer stood back up and grinned triumphantly at being allowed to provide assistance.

The baby let out an unhappy cry.

"She's had needles today and has been stroppy ever since," explained Helen.

"She's not the only one."

"Very funny."

Yennefer peered into the pram to take a closer look at the baby. "Hey, did you see this. You said you got her checked out?"

Helen snapped on the wheel break and raced around to check. "What's wrong?"

"It looks like your baby is… a ginger." 

Yennefer, the absolute shit, started to laugh. She laughed harder when Helen whacked her in the upper arm. Helen was more riled up than truly offended, trying not to laugh herself. It was true, her daughter's hair had come in fuzzy and bright orange just like hers had been. She thought it was adorable but could well admit that her daughter, just like her mother, would be in for a few decades of teasing in her future.

"Just shut up will you!" groused Helen.

"Ow stop. Police brutality. Have you no soul?"

"You've got a nerve talking shit to my face like that." 

"Just having a laugh with you." Yennefer smiled and caught her breath. "Can I buy you a drink? … Tissaia?"

"What?" Helen had been distracted by the baby fussing again and half-missed the question. "Um, no. I'm nursing. Besides, it's only 11am."

"I meant coffee." Yennefer raised her eyebrows. "There's a coffee cart at the park on the end of the street."

* * *

  
  


The two of them sat on a park bench in the patchy sun nursing a takeaway coffee cup each. Helen had parked the pram and was cradling the tightly-swaddled baby who only stopped grizzling when she was being held. This was a good opportunity to exercise the investigative abilities she’d had no outlet for lately.

"So. Yennefer with a Y. What do you do with yourself?"

Yennefer took a sip. "No partner, no kids, no job. Although, I did an interview for one job the other day. It hasn't been filled yet so I'm still hoping to get a look in."

"That's good… " Helen noted a sly upturn of the woman’s mouth and realised. "Ah. You're talking about me, my nanny job. Yennefer, I-"

"Don't need help. I know."

"Exactly."

"Take it anyway."

"What?"

Yennefer shrugged. "I don't need money, but if I see a tenner on the ground I'm going to pick it up."

Helen stared at her companion's clear purple eyes. "Oh god. You're rich aren't you."

"A little."

"You _are_ rich! Are you even allowed to talk to the likes of me. I bet you went to some posh boarding school."

"Hated it. They had to drag me there every term, kicking and screaming. I'm what's colloquially known as the family disappointment."

"What then?"

"Parents died when I was young. Went to uni. Got a doctorate. Now I'm sitting here with you drinking a mediocre skinny cap."

Helen's mouth fell open. "You could do anything. Why the bloody hell do you want to be my nanny."

"Reasons."

"Such as? I mean, you can understand why I'm confused can't you. For the safety of my child I can't take the chance that you're not being upfront with me. You don't… make sense. I'm a detective. Things have to make sense to me."

Yennefer looked out towards the far end of the park where the bright plastic play equipment stood. "I can't have children."

"Oh." 

"I've been diagnosed with endometriosis. Chronic pain, hence the drugs."

"I'm sorry."

_That still doesn't explain it_ , Helen couldn't help thinking. They sipped their coffees in silence for a while.

"She looks like you." Yennefer smiled and met her gaze softly. "Beautiful."

Helen broke the gaze, heat rising in her face. "Doctor said she's doing well. She's only in the 15th weight percentile so it's taking a while to get back up to her birthweight. I had her on my due date, so she wasn't premature or anything, she's just dainty- Sorry. I shouldn't bore you with baby stats... Especially after what you just told me. Shit. Sorry."

"It's fine. It’s not like I’m obsessed with my infertility."

Once they'd finished their drinks, Yennefer took both of the cups and got up to go throw them into a nearby rubbish bin. When she came back she shoved her hands into her leather jacket pockets but didn't sit down.

"I have to go," said Yennefer, sounding quite reluctant about it. "Need any help getting all this back to the car?"

"No, it's alright."

"Should've known." They both chuckled at that. Yennefer pulled out a serviette from the coffee cart from her back pocket. She handed it to Helen with a closed smile and then left swiftly.

Strange. Yennefer didn't seem like the shy sort… She was a puzzle that's for sure. 

Helen unfolded the napkin, which had something scrawled on it around the coffee logo.

_YENNEFER_

+44 7700 900478

When Helen went to put the contact info into her phone she saw a new text message from her contact at the motor authority replying to her rego check of Yennefer’s car.

**Carl (DVLA):** r/o is Yennefer Ophelia Vengerburg. Record clean, only 1 owner. Licence current, 17 penalty notices this year but all paid. Eventually.

**Weekes:** Thanks

That night Helen dreamed about Yennefer again...

* * *

The rectoress clasped her hands in front of her and paced the room. She recited teachings that she'd given countless times before in her long career at Aretuza. Much was still to be learned about chaos but the fundamentals rarely changed.

"Botany is an exact science, girls... Read the relevant passage from the text on your lectern. Select the correct combination and doses of herbs. You may leave after you produce a satisfactory Glammorye potion." 

Tissaia lifted the skirt of her gown to take her place on the chaise at the front of the greenhouse. 

It was her habit to pursue her correspondence or read while the girls worked. Supervising novices had become something she could do in her sleep. Occasionally there was a student who it was rewarding to see succeed, but most of the time her job was to prevent chaotic girls from inadvertently killing themselves and those around them -- or worse, ascending without mastering control.

It wasn’t long before she glanced up to see Sabrina smirking triumphantly as she left the room holding a tiny pot of undoubtedly perfect Glammorye. There had yet to be a trial that Sabrina would fail to succeed at. No doubt it was due to her heritage as a descendent from a great sorceress.

The same could not be said for the other girls. Fringilla succeeded next, though she achieved neither the texture nor clarity of Sabrina's potion. Anica followed.

Soon enough Tissaia realised that she'd gotten through her volume and there was only one student left.

Yennefer. Bottom of the class as usual.

She could hear the girl's thoughts easily. Frustrated. Angry. Persistent self-loathing. 

There was promise. But what worried Tissaia most was the complete lack of control the girl had over her emotions. She let them run wild, let them brew until they boiled over. Her concentration was fogged up with them.

Yennefer startled and looked up when Tissaia appeared in front of her. Stubbornly she stared back down at the open book upon the lectern.

"You can't read," Tissaia said, realising what was wrong.

Yennefer gritted her teeth. "I'm trying."

"It doesn't happen by staring at the same page for two hours, Piglet."

The girl's embarrassment flared. It wouldn't compare to the humiliation of a court mage who could not read and write missives on behalf of her monarch though. Her job as Rectoress extended beyond the teaching of magic to etiquette, deportment, horse riding, and other refinements so that her pupils would be admitted into the highest circles.

"My office. After supper."

The time for private lessons in reading and writing had come. Yennefer knocked timidly on the office door and slunk in, dressed in her grey cotton night shift and clunky black leather shoes. She'd pulled up the fabric of her shift to cover her hunched left shoulder but there was no hiding her kyphotic spine.

Tissaia set down her pipe and gestured to the seat across from her desk. "Sit." 

Yennefer sat and was clearly alarmed when Tissaia rose and joined her side in the adjacent seat. Tissaia held out a small leather-bound volume for the girl to take. "A treatise I wrote some years ago. This is what's possible. You must learn to read or all the world's knowledge will be kept from you."

"What's it about," asked Yennefer. In her short life she’d never known anyone who could read, let alone someone educated enough to publish anything. 

"It's called ‘ _The Poisoned Source’_ ," said Tissaia. 

"Will I really be able to learn how to read it?"

"Yes. You will start by learning your letters. Before you leave tonight you will write your name."

It took hours. Hours of chalk scraping on a stone slate. Hours of scolding so that the student would hate her teacher more than she hated herself. Hours of telepathic bonding that bled into the night. But the rectoress could see improvement and stubborn effort in her student. More than just wanting to prove herself to her teacher, though that was evident too.

Tissaia had to leave to check the dormitory at midnight. When she got back Yennefer was asleep, slumped over the desk. The corner of her mouth tugged into a small smile.

On the slate the letters YENNEFER were scratched by a shaky hand.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a few days late, I meant to post earlier but chickened out. I've not been writing as much this week because of work but I do have more coming soon! Thanks for the comments and thanks for reading! :)
> 
> Content warning: in the first scene of this chapter there are references to Helen's childhood abuse.

A week after they'd met in the park Helen still hadn't contacted Yennefer. She'd intended to at first but then after a few days passed she realised she'd left it too long. And then shit happened that preoccupied her mind completely.

Her boss Chief Inspector Gosford worth phoned to tell her he'd contacted a colleague about reporting her case of historical child sexual abuse. In that moment she realised what was ahead of her and dreaded it. Every fibre of her being screamed at her to take it back and say it had all been a mistake. But in no time at all a detective, DI Trevor Grant, that she knew by name but not personally, accompanied by a female officer of course, was knocking at her door.

Helen paused with her hand on the lock and took in a shaky breath. She let them in, made tea, and the three of them talked shop for a while. It was obvious they were trying to put her at ease but Gosford must've warned them not to coddle her. 

She wasn't sure if she was grateful or annoyed by that. 

Soon enough the chit-chat petered out and it was time to talk of the topic at hand. Helen got up from the couch to go close the bedroom door. She sat back down and grabbed the baby monitor just in case. The faintest sounds of the baby breathing reassured her.

"Ready?" Grant smiled kindly.

"I know she doesn't understand yet but I don't want her to hear any of this," said Helen. Christ, she was rambling already.

"Start at the beginning, tell us whatever you can remember..."

It came out as best as she could put the pieces together of what her life had been some 24 years ago. She'd never told anyone all of it. Sometimes she had to backtrack as she remembered some other detail. It was frustrating. She could remember in vivid detail what outfit she'd been wearing, how the room smelled, and how his hand wrapped around her wrist covering the friendship bracelet that Linda had gotten her. She was thirteen at the time. But she couldn't pin down exact dates. She remembered another time it happened at the Town Hall, clearly remembered running home with lungs burning, but couldn't seem to remember why she'd been at Town Hall in the first place.

The hardest part was talking about  _ him _ . Harcross.

Her chest became so tight it was hard to breathe. In her mind she counseled herself:  _ think of his granddaughter Rory, think of your best friend Linda, think of it happening to another girl if he walks free. It's your job now to protect girls like that. You are grown and he has nothing over you any longer. He can't hurt your Dad, he can't hurt Jenny, everyone you love is safe… Think of Rory, think of Linda, think of Jenny,... _

Finally it was done. But only for now. 

They were going to investigate but given the amount of time that had passed they all knew there wasn't much to go on. Bates spoke optimistically but that was what he was supposed to do. Helen knew, as they all knew, that the likelihood of that fucking bastard Harcross being clapped in irons was a long shot.

As soon as they were gone she burst into tears. Maybe it was hormonal but she couldn't stop thinking and remembering. God why had she brought all of this up. Things had been alright and then she'd gone and done this.

The baby still slept peacefully unaware of her mother's crying. Helen wiped her eyes angrily, looking at her perfect little daughter and feeling as though she hardly deserved her. One thing she knew … If anyone ever laid a hand on her child she'd fucking eviscerate them. How could anyone hurt a child. She'd been ruined as a child and it'd stayed with her her whole life. In her gut, deep inside her. It'd never left her. It made her fuck up every relationship she’d ever had. What if her daughter was ruined by it as well?

Helen gulped, unable to stop her chest hitching from crying too hard.

She yanked open the dressing table's top drawer, scooped up all of the baby’s neatly folded clothes, and stalked into the kitchen to throw them all into the washing machine.

* * *

  
  
There were no dreams for days. Mostly because one had to actually sleep in order to dream. Helen was no stranger to insomnia.

It was after midnight and Helen was sitting up in bed in the dark, no light except the bright glow from her phone screen. The baby was sleeping soundly and probably would be asleep for at least another two hours.

She scrolled through her contacts, reminding herself that everyone had told her to " _ call anytime, day or night _ " but she had no intention of waking anyone she cared about at this hour. Besides… what would she say? She could barely put her feelings into words in her own mind. All she knew was she felt chronically unendingly alone, as though she were the only person in the world who was awake.

She stopped scrolling when she got to the last contact in her list, Yennefer, and realised that she'd never gotten around to making the call.

The dial tone started. She'd accidentally hit the call button. Panic zapped her to life.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" 

Helen scrambled to hang up the call... and immediately thought that maybe that was even worse. If Yennefer figured out who called in the middle of the night, after ghosting her for weeks, and then hung up straightaway like some pathetic teenager afraid of a damn phone call she’d think Helen was a complete idiot!...  _ It's fine, she doesn't have any idea who it is. It’ll just look like a random missed call. She’s probably not even awake. _

A text came through in seconds.

**Yennefer:** Who's this? 

Helen flicked the phone screen shut and sat in the dark. She could just not answer back. Yennefer would never know who it was. But if she ever did want to speak to her … she wouldn’t be able to backtrack from ignoring her like this. Besides. The younger woman had probably forgotten all about giving her her number and had moved on completely.

She flicked her phone back on. 

**Helen:** It's Helen from the park. I didn't mean to call you.

**Yennefer:** Ouch lol

**Helen:** That's not what I meant!

**Yennefer:** It's ok. It's late, is baby keeping you up?

**Helen:** No, she's sleeping like a baby. For once.

**Yennefer:** Can't sleep? Is that why you called me… because I'm boring and you want me to put you to sleep?

**Helen:** No!

It would probably be insulting to say she was dying for any adult human contact. It was the middle of the night and everyone else was asleep. She didn’t want to talk to anyone who knew her too well anyway. _My boyfriend's dead and I want someone to hold me and distract me from the hell that is my own thoughts…_ _but I can’t have that, so you’re the next best thing?_ That sounded terrible.

**Helen:** Why are you up this late?

**Yennefer:** I'm always up this late. I like to sleep in.

**Helen:** How dare you! I won't get to sleep in ever again.

**Yennefer:** I'm glad you messaged back.

**Helen:** I must apologise for not calling earlier. I've had a lot on my mind lately.

**Yennefer:** No need to apologise. I figured you get given a lot of numbers from hot women and you'd get to mine eventually ;)

Helen's heart jumped. What did  _ that _ mean?!

**Yennefer:** Anyway, you should try to sleep.

**Helen:** So should you

**Yennefer:** I will. After I finish my glass of wine. My friend is yelling for me so I better go see what's going on. Something might be on fire. 

**Helen:** Ok have a good night

**Yennefer:** Sweet dreams x

Helen turned off her phone screen, a smile still on her face having received a digital kiss, and placed it on the bedside table. It wasn't long before she finally fell asleep. Again, she dreamed of Yennefer.

* * *

  
  


"Tell me about your conduit moment, Piglet," said Tissaia, making it clear it was not an optional request.

Yennefer shrank visibly into herself. Something about it must've shamed her, made her reluctant to speak of it. The girl sat awkwardly on a stool that was too high for her in the middle of the room. She wore the turquoise shift and grey undershirt that was uniform for Aretuza novices and there were stained bandages tied around her wrists.

They were in the greenhouse alone. The other novices were elsewhere, enjoying their limited free time. Their conduit moments had been more pedestrian, accidental uses of magic. There was nothing more for Tissaia to learn about them. But Yennefer’s...

Tissaia quelled her impatience and paced in a slow arc behind her student. "Would you prefer I reached into your mind and obtained the memory myself?"

"No, I… I transported myself. Here?"

"You conjured a portal to Aretuza. To the Tower of the Gull, Tor Lara, to be exact." 

That was as much as Tissaia knew. This poor misshapen girl had performed complex magic and teleported herself to a protected location of magical significance by chance. Why, and how, the girl escaped thereafter were a complete mystery to her.

"What happened before that,” said Tissaia. “What were you doing, what were you feeling that ignited your magic for the first time."

"I was in the stables…” said Yennefer. “There was a girl and a boy from the village and they were taunting me. They pushed me to the ground and held me down. He lifted my shift up… then nothing. I was suddenly somewhere else."

Tissaia silently let out the breath she'd been holding. Hundreds of years of caring for girls had seen her listening to countless such stories. She was relieved Yennefer had escaped it. But when the girl's chaos was threatened why had she been drawn to Tor Lara, the unstable portal abandoned by elves long ago? She could understand her portalling away from danger. But why there in particular?

Tissaia continued her interrogation. "What happened at Tor Lara. Did you use magic to transport yourself back?"

Yennefer's brow knitted. "No. There was a boy, named Istredd. He told me that you'd be coming for me. That you shouldn't find me there. He sent me through another portal and I was home again."

That was  _ it  _ ? That was all that was behind it? That was why Tissaia, having felt a new ripple in chaos, had had to traipse all over the Continent trying to trace an untraceable portal? Because of a  _ boy,  _ one of Stregobor's protegees?!

It was a disappointment. Her hopes had been raised when she'd traced the ripple to Tor Lara and found it empty and then had to begin an extensive search for the next breadcrumb in the trail. She'd hoped to find someone extraordinary at the end of the chase. So far there wasn't anything to see in this girl that showed she was destined to ascend. 

"Your first portal…" Tissaia mused out loud. "Why did you seek out Tor Lara in the first instance. It is extremely dangerous. Greater sorceresses than you will ever be have been killed just by venturing near it."

"I don't know."

"Think, Piglet!"

"I. Don't. Know!" The girl shouted before she could think better of it. Fear crossed her face, as though she was afraid of being struck for her impudence. No doubt she’d been struck regularly during her life and for far less.

Tissaia stilled in her pacing. "In the stables... why were they taunting you?"

"They always do,” said Yennefer bitterly. “Everyone in the village does. They call me crooked."

"That's not a taunt. That's a fact."

Yennefer's face scrunched in anger and she looked down fiercely. Her eyes were full of tears but she stubbornly held them back. She’d rucked up the neckline of her dress over her left shoulder again. But it did little to disguise the deformity. She was not yet aware that if she eventually ascended her physical limitations would become a thing of the past.

Tissaia stood behind Yennefer’s left shoulder, examining the extent of the kyphosis. "How long has your spine been crooked, Piglet."

"Since I was born. I was cursed to be like this."

"Why do you suppose you are cursed?"

Yennefer’s voice became thick with tears. "Because of my mother’s shame. My father wasn't my father. He was killed before I was born during the Great Cleansing. I am cursed because my blood is neither here nor there."

Tissaia remembered the carnage she had witnessed during The Great Cleansing. More bloody and terrible than any war she had known despite the fact that there had been no battles. It was mere extermination of the elven race. Humans had invaded this Continent and demanded the secrets of chaos from the elves only to wreak havoc on those who supplied them with the knowledge. If Yennefer's real father was killed during the Cleansing it would mean he must've been an elf.

"You have elven blood in you," Tissaia breathed out in wonder, looking at the girl as if she were made anew by the revelation.

It explained everything from the girl's deformities to her uncontrolled chaos. By the gods, it even explained her rare eye colour and her twisted spine. It was as though the characteristic elven height was trying to escape its human constraints. And it explained why she'd been drawn to Tor Lara, the ancient portal built by elves long before the Conjunction of the Spheres.

"He was only half-elf," said Yennefer defensively. Years of prejudice had taught her to downplay it. 

"Regardless of the fraction, it is likely the source of your magic. And the reason for your spinal curvature."

"So it's a gift and a curse," said Yennefer bitterly.

"No. And I'll have no more talk of curses. Your bloodline means nothing to me but I advise you against letting it be widely known. There are those who retain the old prejudices. Do you understand?"

Yennefer nodded. Hopefully she would heed the warning instead of stubbornly resisting every rule she encountered. 

Tissaia righted the fabric that was bunched up over the girl's left shoulder and let the wide neckline fall naturally. Then placed two fingers under her jaw until a pair of cloudy amethyst eyes raised to meet her gaze. There was no confidence in them. Yet.

"Don't slouch, Piglet. Always look the world straight in the eyes as though you are worthy of it."

_ Because you are, _ was left unsaid.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait on this update! Work was crazy this week because we were supposed to emerge from lockdown and then some random administrator floated the idea of cutting our entire program (on which my job depends) so I felt like the thisisfine dog. Then I had to prep two conference presentations that I was freaking out over. Good news is I ended up getting the ending to this story figured out in my head. So it's all good, my brain has returned. Hope you're all doing well. Thanks for reading and special thanks for commenting and leaving kudos x
> 
> Content warning: references to the suicide scene from The Witcher Episode 2.

A few days later Helen had yet another strange dream and it was about Yennefer. 

The first strangeness was that she remembered parts of the dream after waking, the second that it involved someone she knew, and third, that the dream felt oddly like something that had happened before. It felt totally different to normal dreams that didn't make much sense and disappeared from her mind as soon as she woke.

This dream she remembered clearly, still able to picture seeing Yennefer for what felt like the first time. This Yennefer was much younger, maybe a teenager. She had short messy hair and wore patched clothes made of rough-looking fabric. Her eyes were the same striking amethyst colour.

Her first sight of her was as a girl sitting in a pigpen, splashed with sops.

But this girl had a deformed spine and jaw. Was it painful? she wondered in hindsight.

She remembered herself approaching the pigpen, evidently part of some farm and cottage settlement. She haggled with a slovenly looking man, whom she had naught but contempt for, and handed him a few coins. She felt like herself, and yet her dream self was draped in finery, a sapphire-coloured satin embroidered gown and maroon travelling cloak trimmed with fur. She wore a long silver pendant around her neck. Her hair was long but styled into an elegant braided knot low on the back of her head. 

Her name was Tissaia and she had just  _ bought _ Yennefer for a paltry sum.

"You can't take me, won't go," the young Yennefer said stubbornly. Her amethyst eyes were full of defiance.

Tissaia narrowed her gaze, unused to being gainsaid. This girl - dirt poor, deformed, rejected by her family - seemed to have no interest in pursuing a life outside of this farm. She would refuse to leave this place of abject misery and poverty? This was a home such that she did not wish to leave it? Even for the chance that something better awaited her?

The girl must've had no idea that there was such a thing as a better life. 

"You are to come with me now," said Tissaia.

Yennefer's crooked chin lifted. "You can't make me."

"I can. But I would prefer it if you came willingly."

"You'll put a spell on me will you. Mother called you a witch."

It took all of Tissaia's famed self-control not to roll her eyes. She was no village witch, no peddler of trifles, and certainly she was no ugly old crone. She was an accomplished and celebrated sorceress. ‘Witch’ was an insult for a female mage, it was a denigration of their learning and their power to be so lumped in with the group of bewarted spinsters who could barely make the most basic Signs.

"I am no such thing," she heard herself say coldly. "Now, come."

"I told you I won't," said Yennefer.

This happened sometimes when there was a new ripple in chaos. Tissaia would turn up to retrieve a girl and find one that was reluctant to leave her life behind, no matter how mediocre that life was compared to what possibilities awaited her at Aretuza.

She'd long since given up explaining and cajoling. It made little difference. They could not stay, now that their chaos presented itself they were too dangerous to go unchecked.

“You have no choice,” Tissaia informed the girl.

Tissaia raised her hands to conjure a portal back to Areruza. A few feet away the air began to swirl into a circle. She grabbed Yennefer's arm (the girl was thin and weak) and dragged her into it.They landed in the dormitory hall at Aretuza. Tissaia shoved the protesting teenager into an empty bedroom and swiftly locked the door.

As she walked away she heard the girl crying and begging to be let out. Any pang of guilt she felt was stamped down deep inside her long ago. It would be for the best in the end. 

Not long later Tissaia felt an alarming shift in chaos nearby and rushed to the dormitory. Even if she lived five more centuries she would never forget the sight of Yennefer, wrists cut, bleeding like a stuck pig on the stone floor of her new bedroom.

"You will not die," hissed Tissaia, kneeling down in her newest charge's blood beside the girl's curled up form. Hurriedly she balanced her own chaos against a healing spell. She spoke low in Elder, knitting the arteries and skin and paying special attention to the damaged tendons.

"You will need the proper use of these hands. They will learn to cast powerful magic. I will teach you to control all you feel… even this." 

Tissaia wrapped Yennefer's wrists in gauze and transported her to the bed. The unconscious girl looked worryingly pale. She'd lost a lot of blood but she would recover if she lived til morning. Tissaia schooled herself not to get too attached, to this one or to any of the girls. There was no knowing how she would turn out. 

That was the last of the dream.

Helen thought about what she'd seen as she lay in bed. It was very early, barely 6am, and the baby was about to wake for the first feed and change of the day.

Why had she dreamed of herself as a sorceress in another land, another time? It was a complete fantasy. Maybe she'd heard too much about that Game of Thrones series that people at work were always going on about? Paul was always trying to get her to watch it with him but she was never interested.

What did the dream mean, if anything?

Why would she imagine herself abducting Yennefer and acting so cruel and cold towards her? Why would she imagine Yennefer trying to end her own life? Why was she having dreams about Yennefer (who she barely knew) in the first place? 

* * *

Helen waited until 8am rolled around before phoning her boss. He answered after her calls went unanswered at least three times. Chief Inspector Gosford did a bangup job of not telling her off for calling so often. He knew how unrelenting she could be.

There was no more news beyond the Plea and Trial Preparation hearing where Adam Berrin had been indicted to appear before the Crown Court charged with the murder of DI Paul Hopkins as well as a fuck-tonne of other serious charges. Not including being the fucking lying bastard who’d killed her partner and then slept with her.

She needled him but Gosford refused to give her any details of the investigation into her historical CSA case. Helen knew that the wheels of justice turned slowly but it was hell on her nerves.

As soon as she hung up with him her phone rang and she tapped the screen to answer. It was Linda Bates, her estranged childhood best friend who she’d only recently reconnected with after her husband Stephan Bates had been accused of kidnapping two young girls. He was ultimately found to be innocent but not until after he and his family had been dragged through a muddy and public investigation.

“Hey Linda-”

Linda’s teary voice cut her off. “How could you do this to me, Helen.”

“What’s wrong? Are you okay-”

“After everything that happened this year with Stephan getting arrested and having the police round here everyday and everyone looking at me like I’m touched for standin’ by him. And here's me finally thinking I could forget about what happened and we could move on with our lives and then YOU went and-- feck, Helen, the police were here askin’ about  _ him _ . How do they know about me if you didn’t say.”

Helen’s heart sank into her stomach. “I’m sorry. I … I reported what happened to me. I gave a statement. They must’ve put two-and-two together.”

“Why, Helen?” Linda wailed. “What’s the point after all this time. Who’s gonna believe us over the likes of him?”

“Please, Linda. There’s a chance. He shouldn’t be allowed to just get away with it!”

“No, I can’t do this again.”

“But-”

“I ain’t goin to court! Them what nearly took my husband from me. You do what you want but leave me out of it.”

Linda hung up on her. 

Helen put down her phone and pressed her fists into her eyes. She really did understand why Linda reacted the way she had, but she couldn’t help feeling disappointed that her case would’ve been much stronger with her than without her. Now it really was her word versus his. Fucking bastard. Her world was full of them.

* * *

The day passed in a blur of frustration and restlessness. The baby would not tolerate being put down so she couldn’t get anything done around the house (not that it even looked untidy, she'd slipped a few times when her OCD had gotten the better of her). Afternoon tummy time was an argument too and so she’d finally given up. She gave the baby a warm sponge clean, a feed, and then put her down in the Dock-a-Tot where she finally, blessedly, fell asleep.

It reached the time that she'd usually start to prepare or cook dinner for herself. But Helen had no motivation for it tonight, and when she checked the freezer, there were no leftovers left.

"Beans on toast it is then." She muttered.

She tried not to feel guilty about it. Her nutrition was the baby's nutrition after all. 

The doorbell rang. Instantly she recalled the last time, when the police and Gosford came to inform her of Paul's death. Helen shook the memory away. It was probably only elderly Mrs Perkins from two doors up.

Helen opened the door halfway. It was Yennefer -- looking as stunning as a model or actress, dressed stylishly with impeccable makeup and glossy black hair falling in perfect waves. What was she doing here?

"Surprise." Yennefer held out a paper carry bag with a smile. "I thought I'd drop off some tea for you. Hope you like curry."

Helen took the proffered bag, which indeed smelled of delicious Indian takeaway. She frowned. "How did you know where I live?"

"Don't blame Triss. She refused to tell me, despite all the dirt I have on her from our school days. Unfortunately she's so trusting that her phone has no passcode. I snooped."

"Am I supposed to be okay with that."

Yennefer shrugged. "I googled how to be a good friend to someone with a new baby. It said to cook a meal for you, which I thought was shite advice like. I'm trying to befriend you, not poison you. Thought this might be better, though on second thoughts it is a bit stalkerish."

"It was thoughtful," Helen admitted. "Sorry, I don't mean to be so suspicious. I’m a detective, can’t turn it off."

Yennefer pushed her hands into her trench coat pockets and started to walk backwards. "I'll leave you to it then."

After a few more steps Yennefer turned to go.

It really was a nice gesture. Why shouldn't she trust her. And god, after the rubbish day she'd had she really could do with a friend. Or a distraction. Anything. When examining her feelings (but not too closely) she realised she didn’t want her to go. And perhaps her defences were dissolved by some lingering guilt about how she'd treated the poor girl in her dream.

"Wait. Yennefer?" Helen called after her. "Do you want to stay for tea?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kept forgetting to post this, sorry. Thanks for reading and especially to those who've left comments and kudos! One of my favourite scenes is coming up in this chapter :)

Helen led Yennefer inside into the kitchen and started to unpack the takeaway. She eyed the amount and variety of boxes. There was definitely more than enough for one person. What a coincidence. 

She sent Yennefer a wry look. "Just happened to over order did you?"

"Wasn't sure if you were still eating for two," was the teasing reply.

Yennefer shook off her trench coat. She wore a white-dotted black blouse with elegant puffed sleeves and black dress trousers. As she pulled the sleeves of her jacket free, an inch of bare midriff was exposed. 

Helen thought of her own tummy, still rounded weeks after giving birth, and tugged at the hem of her oversize shirt that hung over her leggings. She had on a long comfy wool cardigan as well, with sleeves so long they bunched up at her wrists and had to keep adjusting them.

"Can we eat in the living room? Baby's having a kip in there," said Helen, offering Yennefer one of the two plates upon which she'd served a bit of everything.

"Sure. It's your house."

Helen led the way and the two of them sat on the couch and set their plates on the coffee table. She eyed the floor where the swaddled baby was fast asleep in the Dock-a-Tot. A slight smile tugged at her mouth. Even leaving her for a few seconds to answer the door seemed like a crime. It was exhausting but she needed to have her in her line of sight just about all day.

Helen was starving. She dug into her food with a moan at the first mouthful. "Mmph this is so good. Thanks by the way. How much do I owe you?"

Yennefer shook her head, scooping some basmati rice with her fork. "Nothing."

"Let me pay for half."

"No."

Helen scoffed. "No?"

Yennefer grinned. "You're not used to not getting your way are you."

"As a matter of fact I'm not."

It was true. Hardly anyone could match her for persistence and independence, though she had an inkling that Yennefer might give her a run for her money. The girl seemed determined to become her friend for some reason. And Helen? She was definitely intrigued by her.

"So why are you trying to befriend me, bringing me takeaway on a Friday night. Surely someone your age has better things to do."

Yennefer raised an eyebrow. "'Someone my age'? You're making yourself sound positively ancient. You don't look a day over five hundred."

"How old are you."

"How old are you," came the retort.

"I'm 37. Geriatric first-time mother that I am."

"I'm 29… in a few weeks."

Helen let out a laugh. "Jesus Christ, I knew it. You’re a foetus compared to me."

They talked over a range of topics while eating. It was surprising how easy and enjoyable it was. Only once did Yennefer stray too close to home, asking how her day was, and she'd had to deflect it. Helen was coming around to the idea of considering Yennefer a friend, but her abuse story wasn't something she wanted to get into. She'd been with Paul for years before bursting out with the truth in the middle of an argument. 

It'd been the first time she'd told anyone about being raped. Ever. But it had been overshadowed by her confession that she'd cheated on him. In fact, everything became about that soon enough. She'd been dealing with her abuse revelations all on her own, even after he knew. 

"Hey." Yennefer said softly. "You ok?"

"Yeah, just thinking. Sorry."

"You don't have to apologise."

"I'm absolutely stuffed full, I can't move." Helen pushed her plate onto the coffee table and then sat back into the couch. She let her eyes slip closed. Just for a second.

Sounds of whimpering came from the floor. Helen groaned.

"Don't get up," said Yennefer. "I'll get her." 

Hearing no objection, Yennefer got up and went to retrieve the baby from the floor. She lifted the tiny bundle and gingerly settled her into her chest, keeping one hand under the baby's nappy-clad butt and another securely behind her wobbly head. 

Underneath the swaddling, the baby was dressed for bed in an impossibly soft white onesie with a teddy bear embroidered on the front. She’d finally graduated into wearing size 0000 but still looked engulfed in most of her day clothes.

Helen smiled at them as Yennefer took her place on the couch still cuddling her daughter. The baby made some snuffly noises but it didn't escalate to a cry. Her little face was turned so that she could see her mother and apparently that was enough to reassure her.

"Do you want to take her?" asked Yennefer.

"God no," said Helen. "She's fine where she is. If she wasn't we'd certainly be hearing about it by now. Screamed bloody murder the first time my brother-in-law held her."

"I like a girl who knows what she wants."

"Well, be warned. She might grope you, she's a real boob girl."

Yennefer smirked. "Aren't we all."

Helen flicked her eyes down, hoping that a blush wasn't creeping into her face. It wasn't the first time that Yennefer had made suggestive comments to her, but she wasn't ready to respond in kind or even acknowledge to herself that she  _ wanted _ to. It was far too soon. It was. But at the same time… she didn’t want Yennefer to stop doing it.

She hardly noticed her eyes closing again until she drifted off. Before long, she was asleep with her head tucked into Yennefer’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of her perfume and her baby's own unique smell.

* * *

As soon as Yennefer stepped into the ballroom Tissaia knew in an instant that her protegee was beyond her control, and more importantly, beyond her protection. She couldn't hide her reaction for once. Her face betrayed her shock and then her panic. There were only seconds left to divert this disaster. But they evaporated like water on hot flagstones.

Yennefer headed straight towards her goal, gliding easily into the arms of King Virfuril, leaving Fringilla forgotten. All in the room noticed his open preference and her brazen defiance.

She was indeed stunning. Tissaia had seen the image in Yennefer's mind days ago but it did not compare to seeing her in the flesh. Yennefer's imagination of the most powerful woman in the world was made real. She was easily the most arresting beauty in a room that was full of beautiful people. Tissaia watched her dance with the King, marvelling at her former student's boldness and the effortless way she seduced him.

How had she accomplished this? She had obviously undergone the enchantments despite having missed the initiation ceremony. Tissaia had always known Yennefer to be stubborn and reckless… but  _ this _ ? 

This would get her killed. To openly defy the Brotherhood on the very day she ascended… It was bold bordering on the stupid. If this was Yennefer's understanding of politics her career as a court mage would be short. The game of politics was long, the strategy was subtle, and Kings were fickle. This was rash. Foolhardy.

As Arch-mistress with hundreds of years of service to the Brotherhood, Tissaia had plenty of pull of her own. Actions out of the ordinary from her would be seen as eccentric rather than bold.

She eyed the King and her former student and stepped towards them as the music changed.

"May I cut in?" Tissaia barely smiled.

The King relinquished his hold, dropping Yennefer's hand, and offering his own to the Rectoress.

But Tissaia stepped in front of the woman instead of the man. “May I have this dance, Yennefer?” She slipped an arm around her former student’s waist to guide her away. Yennefer's amethyst eyes widened, her confidence faltering for the first time that night.

The renegade mage recovered quickly. 

Yennefer took Tissaia's hand from her waist and placed it on her shoulder. "On  _ my  _ lead, Rectoress de Vries."

"Foolish girl," hissed Tissaia. "You were missed at the ceremony. What are you doing here now." 

"Apparently I'm to dance with you," said Yennefer. “Since you asked so nicely. Come closer to me.”

The new mage placed a splayed hand on Tissaia's low back, hooked her fingers underneath the bottom of her corset, and drew her in so that their bodices nearly met. Tissaia hid a gasp. She flicked her eyes over Yennefer's shoulder to see who watched them. Too many were observing her being held so in Yennefer's arms. She willed her cheeks not to blush.

Tissaia stared up at Yennefer's guarded eyes, silently pleased that she’d kept them the same. There was much else that was different about her now. She was not tall but with her spine corrected she now had several inches on Tissaia’s short stature. And she was annoyingly haughty about it too. Things between them had changed in an instant now that they were equals.

"How did you manage this?" asked Tissaia, keeping her voice low as they began to dance.

"Oh, you mean my enchantments? I asked Giltine to do it."

"But the herbs were used up… You had some other pain relief during the procedure?"

"I did not." Yennefer sounded nonchalant but her ordeal must've drained her somewhat. Her mind opened for the barest moment and Tissaia could see into it. The image of her student lying on the floor screaming in a pool of her own blood. The horror of what she must've gone through made her feel sick. That was  _ not _ the way it was supposed to be done. No girl was supposed to be awake for it!

Tissaia whispered. "You could have died." 

"But I didn't and now I am here. Am I not beautiful, Tissaia?"

The use of her first name for the first time was yet another irritating show of power.  _ Of course _ she was beautiful, that was the whole point. Tissaia refused to admit just how beautiful she found her. But then, she’d been drawn to her for far longer than that. Maybe she always had been.

"You disappoint me."

Yennefer's eyes flickered but she played it off as indifference. "Nothing's changed between us then I see."

"I did not spend years training you to watch you throw it away like this. You may think you've won, you may well wake up in Virfuril's bed tomorrow, but do not think that Stregobor and the others will soon forget how you got there. I can not protect you outside these walls."

Yennefer sneered. "I've wanted to leave you and these walls behind since the day I got here. I don't  _ need _ your protection."

"Then I suppose you will soon have your wish granted."

"You are right. Tomorrow I will wake up in a King's bed. And you? You will wake up here. Alone."

The music stalled and Tissaia took the chance to slip out of Yennefer's reach. She fled into the crowd of wallflowers feeling cowardly yet relieved at escaping before she said something unwise.

The couples broke apart and reassembled with new partners. Virfuril claimed Yennefer again. It was a scandalous move to choose her a second time when there were many others waiting to dance with him yet. 

For the rest of her night Tissaia watched the dancing, trying not to focus only on Yennefer. There were other former students of hers and colleagues to converse with. But only one who seemed to enjoy catching the Rectoress's eye as she laughed at something inane that the King said or ran a hand down his arm. Only Yennefer could flirt with someone across the room while engaged in seducing another up close.

She was right. Tissaia would wake up tomorrow alone in her bed, having sent off a delegation of freshly minted mages to courts across the Continent. They would leave as students do and forget all about her in short order. And she? She would be alone in Aretuza until she felt the next new ripple in chaos. And then the cycle of teaching -- of catch and release -- would begin anew.

Tissaia straightened the cuffs of her crimson dress several times but they would not sit right. The imprint of Yennefer's hands on her body would not fade quickly and neither would the memory of dancing with her tonight. She told herself that it was because Yennefer had been wearing Glammorye, its perfume would have been irresistible to anyone who got that close to her. Nothing had and nothing could change the way she felt about her.

It would be several years before she set eyes on Yennefer again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. Thanks for reading and for leaving comments or kudos. One of Helen's lines in this is a quote from a MyAnna Buring interview not long after she had her son. Enjoy :) 
> 
> (The tagged content warnings apply to this chapter: some references to homophobia and a reference to Helen's past sexual assault.)

Helen woke to the baby's urgent crying from the most comfortable and refreshing sleep she'd had in weeks despite it being at most two hours’ duration.

As soon as she opened her eyes she realised with embarrassment that she'd fallen asleep on Yennefer. The poor woman was stuck underneath the baby and the baby's mother and couldn't have moved without waking either of them. Helen smoothed her short auburn locks, hoping she didn’t look too messed up.

Yennefer was cradling the now wailing baby with an awkward grimace on her face. "I'm not sure what I did wrong. How do you turn these things off?"

"You didn’t do anything wrong," said Helen, reaching for the bundle. "She needs a change and I need to go feed her. Will you…?"

"Yeah, I'll wait here." Yennefer smiled. "Take your time."

Helen went into the bedroom. She changed the baby's wet nappy, redressed her in her little night-time onesie, and then sat on the bed to nurse. She was conscious of leaving her guest out in the living room alone for so long. But the baby couldn't wait and she wasn’t feeling confident enough to breastfeed in front of someone else. She hoped Yennefer wouldn't think of her as an appalling host. 

Once the baby was down in her crib nodding off, Helen washed her hands in the ensuite bathroom and returned to the living room. Yennefer was amusing herself with her phone but she pocketed it as soon as she looked up and saw Helen come back.

"Hey." Yennefer smiled. "Alright?"

"Yeah. Out like a light."

Yennefer stood up and grabbed her trench coat, ready to go. "I should leave you to get some real sleep."

Helen suppressed a pang of disappointment.

They headed to the front door of the flat. Helen opened the door and let Yennefer through, who turned around to say goodbye. The evening chill hit them both but she wasn't in a hurry to close the door. Helen pushed up the over-long sleeves of her cardigan that were falling down over her hands.

"Sorry I fell asleep on you." Helen blurted out the apology. "You must've had a boring evening."

"Not at all. I had a threesome with two gorgeous redheads."

Helen felt her face heat up. "Right."

"I liked spending time with you. Maybe we can hang out again, or if you need anything… call me."

Yennefer reached out her hand to take Helen's fingers and brushed through them. Amethyst eyes flicked down to her lips and back. She was looking at her so intensely and leaned in slightly… Helen thought for a second that she was going to kiss her and it kicked her anxiety up a notch.

But then Yennefer dropped her hand, gave her a smile and wave, and then she walked away.

Helen breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the door. 

* * *

After that evening Helen and Yennefer had been texting each other every day, usually sending good morning and goodnight messages at the very least. But Helen had yet to broach the topic of seeing each other in person again and she had a feeling that Yennefer was waiting for her to make the next move.

A few days passed and Helen realised it'd been too long since she'd spoken with her Dad. She had texted him a few times and sent pictures of the baby, both at his request for daily updates and because there were so many cute photos on her phone and she had few other people to send them to. She had no social media account and even if she had she was far too private and paranoid to post photos of her child. Some of the awful things she’d seen in her line of work… she just couldn’t.

Her Dad greeted her on the phone. "How's my little girl and how's her little girl?"

Helen smiled in spite of herself. "She's amazing. She doesn't do anything except bathe in her own milk but I absolutely adore her."

"It's wonderful truly. And you, are you well?"

"Yeah," said Helen, injecting brightness into her voice. "I'm just… y'know. After everything that happened..." 

She wasn't sure what to say, not wanting to use any bullshit trite like she was 'taking things one day at a time'. Her Dad must've interpreted the pause as her needing to talk. He always was good at figuring her out even when she didn't know what to say. She heard him moving through the house and then heard the click of a door shutting.

"I've gone into the study to avoid Sid glaring at me for abandoning him to the dishes."

"We can talk later if you're busy."

"No no. Tell your old Dad what's on your mind."

_ God.  _ Exactly how did one bring up this topic with one's father as a grown adult? She wanted to ask for his advice but it was awkward and she felt like a teenager again. There was so much she’d kept from him for so long. There were things about herself and about her relationship with Paul that she’d never told him. Plenty often she didn’t want to tell him about her problems, afraid that he’d be disappointed in her. And now there was Yennefer, who she’d only known for five minutes. She was supposed to be grieving and raising a newborn, not pursuing romantic interests. What would he think of her?

"Um, Dad,… after Mum died, how long was it before you had feelings for Sid?"

"Oh, well," her Dad let out a breath, probably surprised that she would bring up a topic that she  _ never _ talked about. "I'd known Sid for a few years by then and there was always something there. It grew after your mother passed. Helen, you know I loved your mother very much?"

"Yeah, of course. But I was wondering about afterwards… Dating again… Did you feel guilty? Or confused?"

"Early on I did. It was the first time I had feelings for another man. It felt like a double betrayal. But I knew your mother would want me to be happy and to have a life again."

"Right."

"Sweetheart," her Dad's voice turned hesitant. "... Have you met someone?"

She answered in a small voice. "I think so. Maybe."

"And you feel guilty about having feelings for him so soon after losing Paul?"

"Yeah. Um, not him,  _ her _ ."

There was a significant pause while he took in that piece of information.

"Right, well. Y'know, you don't have to feel guilty for how you feel. If it’s too soon, you should talk to her about it. You can take your time getting to know each other. I'm sure she'll understand. But don't hold yourself back from letting someone new into your life."

"It feels like I'm cheating on him."  _ Again _ . 

She closed her eyes, wishing that the guilt would one-day leave her instead of swallowing her whole every damn day. It had been bad enough when he’d been alive, looking at her in that way that made her feel like she'd never be able to scrub the dirt out of her skin.

"Paul loved you. But he’s not here now. You're not doing anything wrong by letting someone else love you too."

Helen felt a hot tear fall and swiped at it quickly. "Ok. Thanks Dad."

"And take it from me, your old Dad who has loved a woman and loved a man… Don't waste any of your life bein' ashamed about who it is you love. If anyone wants to make something of it? Don't even bother with'm. Let 'em say what they'll say. It's not worth it."

She nodded, though he couldn't hear it. Helen was keenly aware of what her father must've gone through by coming out in the 90s. It‘s what had terrified her as a teenager, that Harcross knew and would use it against her Dad if she spoke up about the abuse. Things were different today… but still. Her Dad had been right to warn her of that niggling little shame that had already taken root in her. 

She knew that feeling well. It was the same as when a couple of lads had spat in her face in Polesford and called her a homophobic slur that didn't bear repeating. She couldn't do anything but freeze in place. And that wasn’t like her. It wasn't the first time that rumours had gone around the small town about her and Linda being closer than friends. Her Dad would've heard them too. But she'd never told him she'd had feelings for women before. Not Linda, but there had been others. It had been one of a thousand good reasons why she’d left the small town and never went back.

She was so thankful for having him in her life. 

"Helen, just promise me one thing… this new girl of yours, she's not a United fan is she?"

Helen laughed and felt lighter than she had in weeks. 

* * *

The lightness in her heart didn’t last long unfortunately.

It was time for yet another baby checkup appointment at the family GP practice. It was a freezing cold day, unusually cold even for November. Helen bundled up the baby and covered the pram with a blanket to protect her from the chilly air. She’d worn her waterproof shoes and a thick coat but not the warmest one she had -- that one was still buried in the closet in what she’d come to think of as Paul’s room (actually it was the spare room that her sister moved all of his stuff into but Helen hadn’t gone into it even once since coming home from hospital).

There were no parks close to the practice either so she’d had to leave her red VW Golf next to the play area down the street and walk the rest of the way. 

Helen had smiled, remembering the conversation she’d had with Yennefer there. She’d come to really look forward to receiving daily messages from her.

The appointment went well and the baby got a good report, receiving flying colours for weight gain and development. Afterwards, Helen manoeuvred the pram while holding the blanket over the front so that it wouldn’t get blown away in a gust of wind. She’d have to buy some clips or something but right now she wasn’t too far from the car.

Helen stopped on the footpath when she felt her phone buzz in her jeans pocket. On the screen she was surprised to see notifications for a missed call from an unknown number. Even more so when it rang again. 

Usually she wouldn’t bother with unknowns but she wasn’t sure if this wasn’t a call regarding work. Sometimes she fielded calls from other Metro departments or coppers working for Man City whose cases had some overlap with one of hers. It was probably too much to hope that Adam Berrin had tripped and fallen off the face of the earth so she’d never have to see him again. Maybe it was something to do with the investigation of her own case.

“Hi, this is Helen Weekes.”

“Hello Helen.”

The deep voice made her blood run cold in her veins. Her stomach felt immediately like it was full of lead. It was a voice she hadn’t heard in well over 20 years. It was the voice of the man who had raped her. 

“Wh-” Her throat went dry and she swallowed. 

“Congratulations on the birth of your daughter. I saw it on facebook. She’s a beautiful little thing, she looks just like you did when you were young.”

_ No. No. No!  _ She shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. There were no photos on facebook of her baby, it was impossible. She’d specifically told everyone that she didn’t want anything posted online, not that she’d given them the real reason. But surely that would’ve been good enough. And how,  _ how _ had he gotten her mobile phone number? He was supposed to be living miles away in fucking Hull!

She should have yelled at him, accused him, told him she knew what he was -- a filthy child molestor -- and that she would hold him to account for what he’d done to her and to Linda. But she couldn’t make any of the words come out. 

“Are you there, Helen?”

Helen ended the call, stabbing at the phone screen with shaking freezing cold hands. She looked around her wildly, down the street and scanning the park, for a familiar figure. If he’d managed to get her number … could he have tracked her down here too?

Her phone screen flicked back to life and she quickly went to her Recent calls and Yennefer’s name was the first one she saw.

Helen clicked the call button. She heard it ring, waiting for an answer, as the anxiety in her chest ate her up from the inside.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite scene I've written is in this one. Enjoy! Thanks for reading :) 
> 
> Spoilers for In The Dark Episode 4.

“Hey you,” Yennefer answered brightly. It sounded like she was driving and talking on the hands-free. 

It was amazing to hear her voice, to know that she still existed in the world and was happy to hear from her. If only she could listen to that all day and never hear that man's voice in her head ever again.

Helen closed her eyes in relief. Her tongue felt like a dry brick in her mouth. “Y-Yennefer, I-”

“Are you okay? You sound odd. Has something happened?”

“I...I can’t.”

Yennefer’s voice turned serious, obviously realising something was seriously wrong. “Are you safe. Where are you now?”

“The park.”

“Okay, good. Stay there. I’m coming to get you. I’m already driving and I’ll be there in like two minutes okay...”

It felt like two years. Helen didn’t say anything or end the call, she just listened to Yennefer ramble on the other side of the phone, narrating how close she was and how everything would be okay. She wasn’t sure she believed that. It was too hard even to breathe.

When Yennefer got there she found Helen sitting on a bench -- their bench -- holding her phone and the baby tight to her chest. Thankfully Yennefer had guessed correctly which park she’d meant. The pram was waiting nearby. Nothing immediately seemed amiss, except for the look on the redhead’s pale face. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. 

“Hey,” Yennefer said softly, taking a seat next to her. “I’m here. Are you both alright?”

Helen nodded, but her eyes were glassy. 

It was spitting rain now and the shoulders of Helen’s coat were becoming damp. Yennefer tugged off her black leather glove so that she could put her hand on the baby’s cheek, which was warm, thankfully as she was swaddled well and the blanket was high up enough to keep the rain off her tiny fuzzy head. The baby wasn’t crying so she assumed she was okay. But when she put her hand to Helen’s cheek it was cold. 

“Shit, you’re freezing!” Yennefer exclaimed. She grabbed the spare blanket from the pram and threw it around Helen’s shoulders. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

* * *

Yennefer drove Helen’s Golf back to the flat, remembering the directions easily, and got the three of them upstairs and inside without too much trouble. 

As soon as the baby was put in the Dock-a-Tot Yennefer marched Helen into the bathroom and instructed her to take a hot shower while she waited outside within earshot keeping an eye on the baby. 

Helen obeyed mindlessly, only reviving somewhat once she’d gotten out of the shower. She dressed in oversized green flannel pyjama pants and a grey jumper, rolling the long sleeves up over her wrists. Unfortunately she was feeling better enough for embarrassment to have sunk in. She left the bedroom to find Yennefer sitting on the edge of the couch. 

"Hey," Helen said, barely able to meet the other woman's concerned eyes. She sat down on the couch.

Yennefer gave her a smile. "Feel better?" 

"Yeah, thanks. I'm sorry about all of this. I owe you an explanation."

"Only if you want to."

"I got a phone call from someone I knew a long time ago and I think I had a panic attack."

She eyed the baby, still asleep in the Dock-a-Tot which sat safely on the floor. Her wet coat was already draped over the radiator to dry. The nappy bag with her wallet in it was hanging off the pram handle which was parked in the entry hall. It seemed Yennefer had taken care of everything, rearranged it all, and she wasn't sure why that annoyed her. It was always Helen that took care of everyone else. She didn’t need or want anyone to take care of her. She certainly didn't need sympathy or worse, pity.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that."

A zip of irritation ran through her. "Would you stop doing that."

"What?" Yennefer said, sounding confused at the sudden change in tone.

"Stop being so kind to me. You don't even know me, god if you _did_ know who I really am and what I've done, you wouldn't want a bar of me… I don't bloody deserve it," Helen said bitterly.

"What could you possibly have done that's that bad." Yennefer's smile was paired with a skeptical brow.

Helen wanted to yell at Yennefer, to push her away once and for all. To warn her off. Once she knew the truth she'd leave anyway. Just like Paul did once he'd found out the truth. The tight reign that she’d held onto her anchor finally snapped.

"You want to know what kind of person I am? I cheated on my partner with the man who ended up murdering him and I don't even _know_ which of them is the father of my baby. My boyfriend died a week before I gave birth and all I wanted to do was work until I found out why. And today, that man on the phone? I have no idea how he got my number, but I know he called me to remind me he exists and that he _knows_ me. He knows how afraid I am and how fucked up I am over what he did to me as a teenager. He raped me. More than once. But I never said anything or told anyone because he threatened to out my Dad and then he did it to my best friend too. It's my fault. Everything gets fucked up because of me and I just can't-... I can't-"

Helen choked on a sob and slapped her sleeved hand over her eyes. She felt herself pulled gently into a pair of arms. She wanted to fight against it, to deny what she wanted, but she was too tired. Not just physically tired from lack of sleep, but tired of existing.

Yennefer didn't say anything, she just held her. And it made Helen cry harder and hide her face, ashamed at her outburst. But she couldn't stop, couldn't get her breathing under control, couldn't make herself leave the only person that felt safe and warm right now.

Yennefer whispered into her still-wet hair. "I do know you, Tissaia..."

_What had she called her? Had she heard that correctly?_

"And I assure you, I'm a shittier person than you could ever be."

* * *

Night fell over the castle keep on the eve before the battle at Sodden Hill. The ale flowed, revelry ensued, and soon enough couples -- and throuples -- slunk off into the shadows in order to make the most of what may end up being their last night on the Continent. The sounds and sighs of pleasure filled the still air.

Tissaia was looking for Yennefer.

It had been hours since she’d walked off on her after telling her former student that she had so much more life left to live. In hindsight her words were probably taken as a rebuke but she stood by them. The entire conversation troubled her. A sorceress who had not even passed her first century already considered her life over and done! It was ludicrous. Especially from Yennefer, who had yet to make good on any of her considerable potential. 

Maddening girl. Where had she gone? 

Perhaps Yennefer was consoling herself sexually with one or two willing participants. She never did want for suitors after her ascension. With her exotic looks and intense purple eyes she could be seductive without effort. By all accounts she’d certainly mastered that particular aspect of court life. And failed miserably at others.

Tissaia searched, gingerly stepping around the undulating forms of lovemakers, unwilling to admit to herself that she hoped _not_ to find her former protegee engaged with any of them. 

Then she spotted her.

Yennefer, blessedly unpartnered, was wrestling with a blanket and attempting to yank the corner of it from underneath a heavy villager who had passed out drunk. Somehow, even after travelling all day, the fruity scent of Yennefer's signature Glammorye perfume was strong enough to entice her closer.

"I'm surprised to find you alone." Tissaia stood next to her. "What are you doing."

Yennefer huffed when she spoke. "I'm trying to find somewhere to sleep. Somewhere away from the sound of," she paused to raise her voice pointedly, "SOMEONE FAKING AN ORGASM."

The sound of moaning from the couple nearby intensified. 

Yennefer continued to rant. "And of course I'm alone. When am I ever not alone when it really matters? If I'm to die tomorrow I want to fall asleep looking at the stars, not underneath some sweaty brute with only two good thrusts in him and certainly not with some vacuous beauty who desires me to service her in front of her husband."

Tissaia tsked. "Must you be so crass?" 

"Besides, it's me who should be surprised to find that _you_ are not cozied up with someone, Rectoress de Vries."

Irritation zipped through her before she could fully suppress it. "What are you talking about," Tissaia spat.

"Vilgefortz. I saw you and him talking earlier."

"Oh, talking were we? How positively obscene.”

Yennefer yanked the blanket again. “You know what I mean! He was chatting you up. From what I saw you looked pretty receptive to it.” 

“Don't insult me. I tired of that particular brand of masculinity centuries ago."

"You smiled at him."

Tissaia nearly laughed at the earnest annoyance on Yennefer's face.

The blanket finally tugged free and Yennefer balled it up against her chest and stalked off, away from the many couples towards a sloping patch of grass. 

_Where had the idea that I might be sexually interested in Vilgefortz come from? Was she jealous? Over him? Or… over me?_ It was unlikely but who knew what was going on in Yennefer's mind these days.

Tissaia suspected her to be surly because of the sleeping arrangements. Perhaps she'd shed the habit in years since, but Tissaia remembered the years at Aretuza where Yennefer had refused to sleep in the dark without a candle or some source of light. She suffered from nightmares. More than once the Rectoress had had to reach out telepathically to chase them away. One of the many things she’d done for the girl without her knowing.

Tissaia followed her, taking a seat after Yennefer spread out the blanket on the ground. She smoothed out the corners of the blanket and received a glare in return. But Tissaia was far too used to supervising teenage girls to be bothered by such dramatics.

"Can we get this over with so that I can sleep?" hissed Yennefer.

Tissaia couldn’t help asking something she’d been curious about for days. "Why did you agree to come here."

"Because you asked me to."

“That was _after_ you came to the meeting at Aretuza. How did Vilgefortz get you to come in the first place?”

Yennefer rolled her eyes at the man’s name. “He told me that you said I was the best student you ever taught.”

“And you believed that.” Tissaia hid a smile. 

“Fine, go ahead and laugh. But if I’m such a rubbish mage it’s your fault, you were the one who taught me.”

“You were one of the _worst_ students I’ve had. You have an unteachable talent for chaos and an infuriating lack of restraint and self-belief. Ever since you ascended I’ve had to smooth things over with the Chapter and the second I start to think things have settled some new report surfaces of you running your apolitical mouth.”

“Keep singing my praises like this, it’s turning me on.”

Tissaia looked her in the eyes, their amethyst depths just visible in the moonlight. "You don't have to do this, I know you don't believe in the cause. You should go." 

Yennefer sighed heavily. "First, you want me to join your little rebellion and now you want me to piss off. Which is it, Tissaia. Do you want me here or not?"

_Here! Here with me. Where I always want you._ The desire was buried deep inside Tissaia, too far for her to come out and say things like that on a night like this. On the eve of the day where all her girls might lose their lives and it would be her fault. The guilt already haunted her of what sacrifices she was asking of them.

"I don't want you to die,” confessed Tissaia. “Certainly not without having experienced fulfilment. You are more important to me than protecting the Brotherhood. When I asked you this favour I hadn't realised that you were so… disappointed in life."

"Well I'm not portaling out in the middle of the night after coming this far. If I die, I die. It's not like I can ever have what I want anyway."

Tissaia was unsure which irritated her more, Yennefer's fatalism or Yennefer's apathy. It made her speak sharply. 

"You always did give up on yourself prematurely. If you live to be five hundred years you will see a completely different world. You cannot possibly guess what Destiny has in store for you."

Yennefer scoffed. "You told me yourself it's not possible to reverse what was done to me. Plus I heard it from a golden dragon. The whole world is telling me I shouldn't be a mother. I've finally accepted it. End of story."

Things had changed so much since their conversation in the village of Rinde. Yennefer had clearly given up her ruthless pursuit of the goal of repairing her infertility. 

_So this was why she doesn’t care if she lives or dies tomorrow_ , thought Tissaia. _She cannot see a way past the barriers to what she wants, she cannot see her worth without it. She thinks her greatest fear, that she is unlovable despite her stunning beauty, is true_ . _If she only knew how wrong that was..._

Tissaia’s heart sped up, unable to stop herself from what she was about to say. She also knew Yennefer would be able to hear it. "I've been doing some research. I found a lead."

"If you are lying to get me to--"

"I'm not lying," said Tissaia, letting down her mental shields just enough. "It is the longest of long shots. Do not get your hopes up in case it comes to nothing. You would not carry the child but the child might carry your genes. Would that satisfy your yearnings?"

Yennefer was quiet, contemplative. It was an odd look on her. "It might."

"Of course, you would need someone to surrogate for you."

"Someone who could put up with me? There's your long shot." 

Tissaia smiled in spite of herself. _After Sodden_ , she promised herself. _She would tell Yennefer everything. If they both lived._

  
  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for the lovely comments & tumblr messages. It means so much to know readers are enjoying this story. Here's an update! :)
> 
> (I did some research online on police investigation of CSA cases in the UK but any remaining mistakes are all mine.)

Helen had not realised that confessing her past would be a turning point in her relationship with Yennefer. She was still wary of losing someone again and not wanting to rebound before fully processing her grief for Paul. But at least now Yennefer knew she'd suffered a recent loss and could give her space. Without discussing it they'd tacitly agreed to take their relationship slowly.

They started spending more time together, especially at Helen’s flat since the baby was still very little and going anywhere was a major logistical operation. 

They spent most evenings together. Yennefer would turn up with takeaway or Helen would cook and they'd eat dinner together followed by a movie, which they both ignored for the most part, or cuddled together on the couch with Helen resting while Yennefer read a book. It wasn't long before the "evening" visits started earlier and lasted longer.

Yennefer grew more confident with the baby and insisted on learning how to help. The first lesson was how to change a wet nappy.

"It doesn’t smell that bad," said Yennefer with a frown, holding the baby’s ankles up to pull out the nappy from underneath her cute little butt. "Is that weird?"

Helen laughed, wrapping up the soiled nappy for disposal. "No, you're not imagining it. The books say newborns who are breastfed don’t smell as much."

"I thought nappies would stink like, well, shit."

"Just you wait til she starts eating solids."

"When's that?"

"At about 6 months. You can definitely share feeding and nappy duties then." 

Yennefer gave her a coy smile, the implication being that Helen expected her to be around that long. After the baby was redressed and secured, Helen may or may not have started a playfight by deliberately squirting a puff of cornflour onto Yennefer's silk black shirt. That earned her a tight hug and being picked up so that her feet left the floor until she promised to stop laughing. 

It wasn't just nappies that Yennefer wanted to learn. It seemed she genuinely wanted to be involved in taking care of the baby and Helen revelled in the help. Even with Yennefer only there during daytime hours it allowed her to catch up on some much-needed sleep. And that was truly a godsend. Even her OCD symptoms were improving, according to her counselor.

Helen was now used to nursing in front of close friends and relatives. At first, Yennefer averted her eyes so much that she didn't risk a glance anywhere near her general direction. Helen smirked at her antics and said it wasn't necessary, it was fine if she wanted to look. It warmed her heart though, when Yennefer finally allowed herself to observe the intimate moment, the expression on her face was unabashed awe. 

By now Helen had gotten to know her baby well enough to be able to tell when she was hungry and could often pre-empt the crying. But when the baby cried in her cot out of loneliness or just wanting attention it turned out that a cuddle from Yennefer would often do just as well as a cuddle from Mummy.

Yennefer was so enthusiastic about getting the baby’s approval. She turned up one day with a purple Moby wrap that she'd purchased for herself to carry the baby in. The weather was mild(ish) so the three of them took a walk to try it out.

The sling wrapped around Yennefer's torso and then around the baby who was cuddled into her chest with only the top of her little fuzzy head peeking out. The purple wrap clashed horribly with the baby’s hair colour, likely why she had chosen it. As soon as they got outside Helen slipped a pink Peppa Pig woollen cap over her daughter's head to ward off a chill.

"This is really comfortable," said Yennefer, commenting on the baby sling. "Is this what it was like being pregnant?"

Helen scoffed. "Not in the slightest. I was huge even at 5 months and it was _not_ comfortable."

"Don't listen to Mummy," Yennefer said to the sleeping baby. "I bet you were a perfect angel even before you were born. Weren't you, little miss Piggy."

"Don't call her that," Helen chided.

"Piglet?"

"Not that either."

"Piggles it is then."

The copper in Helen was about to object to all pig-related nicknames when Yennefer distracted her completely by taking her hand for the first time in public, and keeping it, as they walked. She said that the real function of the Moby wrap was so that she could hold both her favourite redheads at the same time.

Previously Helen wouldn't have thought anything of the simple act of holding hands, but somehow it seemed significant with Yennefer. Neither of them wanted to let go. In fact, once they made it back to the flat Yennefer made a game of refusing to let her hand go, only relenting when one of them went to the loo.

Their time spent together wasn't all about the baby though. Hours of naptime per day gave them plenty of time alone.

Sometimes it felt they were moving far too slowly for Helen. Being wrapped up in Yennefer’s arms made her wish for even more closeness. Not necessarily sexually (she was still recovering from the birth and her hormones were low due to breastfeeding) but she longed for intimacy. Yennefer never pushed for more but what she did was somehow worse, giving her the most intense heated stares with a smirk that made it obvious she knew _exactly_ what she was doing.

Helen lost her patience one day after one too many coy looks. She pushed a surprised but delighted Yennefer back into the couch and climbed up to straddle her lap. Yennefer’s hands settled on her hips to steady her.

“Kiss me,” said Helen. “Please.” 

Yennefer’s eyes gleamed like crystal. “Only because you asked so nicely,” she whispered, leaning in to claim her lips. 

The kiss was slow and explorative and hot. Helen reached up under her shirt to snake her arms around Yennefer’s back, seeking as much skin-to-skin contact as she could find. They were both keenly aware of this shift in their relationship towards the physical without stopping to define it or label it.

After the baby turned six weeks old Yennefer had gone away out of town “on business” without specifying where or why. Helen wondered how someone who had no job could have any business at all, but she felt it wasn’t her place to pry this early on in their relationship. 

It wasn’t til she was gone that Helen realised how much she'd gotten used to seeing Yennefer daily and missed her presence sorely. 

* * *

Two days after Yennefer left, Helen’s boss Chief Inspector Gosford phoned her to ask if she would come into the office. He wanted to have a conversation with her about her CSA investigation. And apparently her colleagues were dying for her to come in to show-off the baby.

Helen hated birthdays, baby showers, and parties at the office… She did not want or enjoy the attention and didn’t particularly like the idea of passing her baby around like a trophy. In the end she decided to suck it up and appreciate the gesture for what it was. 

When she arrived at Metro P.D. there was a large slab cake with pink icing in the break room. Fellow coppers, techs, and admin staff came in at different points, each congratulating her and swiping a slice on their way out. Thankfully no-one asked to hold the baby, who was sleeping peacefully against Helen's chest in the Moby wrap, so she was spared the awkwardness of saying no. The only person the baby tolerated to hold her so far was Yennefer (a fact that delighted the young woman immensely and made her inordinately smug).

After extricating herself and leaving the others to enjoy their morning tea, Helen left in search of Forensics where her dear friend Phil worked. She found him easily, his tall lanky form dressed eccentrically in one of his dapper suits underneath a white lab coat, black straight hair flopping into his eyes as he bent over a microscope. 

Phil looked up and noticed her enter. "Oh darling, there you are!"

He put his arm around her and gave her a side-hug, the best he could do without squishing the baby between them. She raised up on her toes to kiss his cheek, genuinely glad to see him again after so many weeks. She pulled the pram in behind her to park it in his office and then extracted the baby from the sling to put her down for a while.

"Helen, my love. How are you finding motherhood? Tell me everything."

And she did, happily giving him a rundown of her first weeks with her daughter. Phil was a saint, listening to her gush about the baby and delighting in her happiness, though he was known to have no interest in children himself. In return, he took great pleasure in telling her about the play he’d seen and the debauchery he’d participated in with one of the actors last weekend.

"How's your gay Dad doing?" said Phil. “Have I mentioned today that I _love_ the fact that you have a gay dad.”

Helen rolled her eyes. "He's bisexual, not gay. Proper thrilled with his new grandchild."

"Has he seen her in person yet or just digitally?"

"Not since he and Sid came up after the birth to visit us in the hospital. I spoke to him on the phone the other day though. We had a … talk."

Phil lifted his coffee mug to take a sip and raised his eyebrows. “A talk. Sounds serious. Are we about to have a talk?”

Despite knowing full-well that he would be fine with it, Helen still felt the awkwardness of having to come out and say it. “We talked about how he got together with Sid after Mum died. I told him, and now I’m telling you, that … I think I’m attracted to women.”

Phil’s face lit up like Christmas. “You ‘think’? Or you ‘know’.”

“Do one,” groused Helen, her face reddening. “I _know_. I've admitted to myself that I'm bi.”

“This is absolutely smashing news! You have made my entire year with this revelation. I am slightly concerned about running out of straight friends though... People might think I’m a bigot. Seriously, I am happy for you and honoured to be trusted with this. So tell me, who’s your bisexual awakening?”

“Wha- Why do you think there has to be somebody.”

“Darling. There always is.” 

So, to his glee, she told him about Yennefer.

* * *

It was time for the real purpose of her visit and Helen was anxious for an update on her case. On top of that she’d left her daughter sleeping in the pram with Phil, who she trusted to keep a watchful eye, but it was still one of the first times that the baby had been away from her for more than a few minutes. ‘Out of sight’ did not mean ‘out of mind’ for a new mother.

Helen joined Gosford and DI Grant in the meeting room and put her phone on the table in front of her where she could see it if Phil messaged her (as promised) if the baby started to fuss. All of the privacy blinds in the room had been pulled down and on the table there was coffee, water, and a box of tissues, arrangements she remembered doing herself when interviewing victims of crime. She’d declined to have another person there for support.

“Thanks for coming in today, Helen,” said Gosford, after the standard pleasantries. “I’ll let DI Grant update you on the investigation.”

Grant cleared his throat. “As you know, the decision to proceed with investigation into a non-recent CSA case depends on, among other things, whether there is potential harm posed by the perpetrator, whether there is potential harm in unsolicited contacting of victims, and whether it’s in the public interest.

“On the balance of these factors, it was decided to investigate since, as a Councillor, the perpetrator is a public figure in the community in which he now lives. We have begun interviews and a search of local records which will take some time. But I want to assure you that this is not because we doubt your account, merely that we seek enough corroborating evidence to proceed to prosecution.”

Gosford then added. “Given the length of time, there’s not likely to be any physical or documented evidence and any potential witnesses may have forgotten details. We will pass everything on to the Crown Prosecution Service who will decide if a conviction is likely. It may not proceed to a trial...” he trailed off.

Helen nodded ruefully. “No, I understand. It’s for CPS to prove it beyond reasonable doubt but everything is stacked in the perp’s favour. Time, stigma, fear... That’s why they get away with it so often.” 

She’d known that reporting her case would be a painful process unlikely to end in justice, but it didn’t stop her feeling bitter about it.

“You talked to Linda then?” asked Helen. “She called me.”

“Yes,” said Grant. “Unfortunately, in this instance that contact resulted in considerable distress to Mrs Bates. She has been offered counseling and support but has declined to make an official statement.”

“Did you find anyone else.” Helen resisted the urge to look down and pull at her sleeves to cover her hands. “Did he do this to other girls?”

“We have not identified any other victims,” said Grant. 

“I don't know if I’m surprised but I suppose that’s a blessing. Some of them offend for decades and leave a trail of ruined lives. Is it possible that he only did it to me and my best friend and then moved on with his life? Was it just a blip on his radar then? My life gets ruined but he gets to forget and start over?”

Respectfully the men didn’t comment.

“Did you interview him?” said Helen. “Harcross, I mean. What did he have to say.”

Grant and Gosford exchanged a look. Ordinarily, victims would not be informed in detail about certain aspects of an active investigation for privacy reasons. But this was one of their own and the unspoken rule was that coppers stuck together. They would bend the rules a little for her but neither wanted to pile more pain onto her.

“I don’t think-” started Gosford.

“Just tell me,” snapped Helen.

“He denied it,” said Grant, as gently as possible. “He suggested that you were a confused teen whose Mum just died. He says he caught you kissing Linda one day while he was visiting at your father’s house. Thought your accusations were retribution for the rumours going around Polesford about you being in a lesbian relationship with her.”

“Of course he'd fucking say that.” Helen shook her head and smiled darkly. “That homophobic prick! What it is, right, he’s not even lying. He did catch us. I was thirteen and hadn’t even been kissed when the abuse started. I asked Linda if we could kiss, thinking it might help erase some of what happened… It didn’t.”

Harcross had held her Dad’s sexuality over her head to keep her silent back then and now he was attempting to use her own sexuality to discredit her story. But she was coming out now and speaking up and _nothing_ would make her withdraw her case against him.

* * *

  
  


By the time she left the P.D. it was late in the afternoon and the temperature was falling. 

In the parking lot, Helen's phone buzzed with an incoming call from Yennefer just as she was about to transfer the baby from the pram into the carseat. It was cold, starting to spit rain, and she wanted to get her daughter out of the weather quickly. She swiped the green button to answer.

"Hi, can I call you back in 5?" said Helen.

"Can't, I only have a minute." Yennefer sounded rushed.

"Ok. Where are you?"

"Still in Hull. I got arrested.”

Helen nearly dropped her phone in shock. “What for?!"

"Breaking the law. I gotta go, my useless solicitor's finally here. Give Piggles a kiss for me and tell her I’ll be home soon.”

Then she hung up, leaving Helen with more questions than before.


	10. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for continuing to support this story, I'm so grateful. I've been suffering writer's block while trying to work out an upcoming chapter but getting through it and nearly there. Hope you are all safe and well. Enjoy :)

The baby caught her first cold. Helen was kicking herself now for taking her out of the sanctuary of the flat and exposing her to Manchester’s elements.

At first it was just that the baby was noticeably different than her usual self and had a runny nose but it soon developed into a slight fever. Because she was still under three months old Helen took her to the doctor just in case. More serious conditions were ruled out and she was sent home with instructions to keep an eye on the baby’s temperature.

The baby’s stuffy nose made it hard for her to nurse properly, which made her fussy and irritable and unable to sleep.

Helen was up all night with her, holding her while she cried and sneezed alternately, and they both got exactly zero sleep. Every time she attempted to settle the baby and put her down for a sleep it only lasted about 10 minutes before she woke again. She checked her daughter’s temperature with every nappy change but it never got up to 38 degrees.

By morning the baby was breathing a little better and finally went to sleep. Helen was exhausted. Her eyes felt like sandpaper and she longed to lay down but all she could think about was her precious baby suffocating on her own snot. The fear was enough to keep her from rest. So she sanitised the apartment within an inch of its life instead.

There was a knock on the door. It was a familiar pattern, one that never failed to make her heart jump.

Yennefer was here.

Helen hesitated. 

The last she'd heard from Yennefer was the rushed phone call when she'd said she'd been arrested. Helen wanted answers about what the hell Yennefer had been up to while she’d been away out of town. Mostly she just missed her and wanted to see her. But she was still in her pyjamas and her hair was due for a wash.

When she opened the door Yennefer flashed her a smile. She looked stunning as usual and was dressed to the nines in her customary black-and-white palette. 

“Hey you! Wow, you look like shit. For you that is.”

“Thanks,” muttered Helen. “The baby’s poorly. Been up all night.” 

She held the door open and then the two of them stood in the entryway. Two awkward seconds passed where they usually would have hugged but Helen stepped away instead. She also wouldn’t meet her eyes which is how she saw that Yennefer wore a black ‘moon’ boot on her right foot. The same type that her oldest nephew had worn when he fell off his skateboard and fractured his foot in two places.

“What happened to your foot,” asked Helen. “Is it broken?”

“Just a bad sprain.” Yennefer shrugged off the concern. “I think the technical term is PFO.”

Helen raised her eyebrows. As a cop she was familiar with the slang. “Pissed, fell over?”

“Yeah.”

Yennefer took off her coat, folded it carefully and then laid it on the back of the couch. She went to sit in her usual spot to take the weight off her foot. Helen followed her, becoming more suspicious by the second. It was one of her key skills to extract information from people even when they didn’t know they were being interrogated. She wondered whether Yennefer would cotton on to what she was doing.

“Was this before or after you got arrested,” said Helen, perching on the opposite arm of the couch.

“Before,” said Yennefer. “I had too much wine the first night away. Ended up in A&E for a foot x-ray and got this hideous footwear as a souvenir. Wasn’t arrested til the next night.”

So apparently Yennefer went away on “business” but spent her time partying, drinking to the point where she was falling-down drunk. Everyone knew that Hull wasn’t exactly a buzzing place in terms of nightlife. Neither was it near the top of Helen's list for a minibreak. The Cotswolds would have to run out of B&Bs before she’d consider holidaying anywhere else.

"Why were you in Hull," said Helen.

Yennefer shrugged. "Why not. I’d never been before."

Unhappy with the evasiveness of her interrogee, Helen crossed her arms. “Are you at least going to tell me what they nicked you for?”

“Driving while above the legal limit. But they dropped the charges and I was released after a few hours.”

Helen was taken aback not only by the answer but by its owner’s complete nonchalance about the situation. When she’d first been told by Yennefer that she’d gotten herself arrested she wasn’t sure what to think but she certainly hadn’t expected a DUI. Did Yennefer really think that that was no big deal?

“Drink driving?” said Helen, her voice hard and even. “You must know how selfish and irresponsible that is. Do you have any idea of the things I've seen in my line of work? Accident scenes with twisted cars and passengers ripped apart, body parts scattered across the road.”

Yennefer looked shocked by the change in tone. “I guess, but-”

“You could have killed someone. Or yourself. And then I would've had to lose someone again. I can't go through that with you. Do you understand?” 

The image was as clear in her mind as if she’d witnessed it in person. An injured Yennefer clutching at a wound in her abdomen, with blood running from her eyes and the corner of her mouth, staggering towards her while mouthing her name. Helen shuddered and willed herself to forget it. She could  _ not _ lose her.

Yennefer was still staring at her, as though trying to figure something out. “I didn't realise it would affect you like this.”

It wasn’t just the terrifying idea of losing someone else. It was that she’d begun to trust Yennefer to help her take care of her daughter. Already she saw the possibility of them having a serious relationship. But that couldn’t happen if Yennefer would be secretive about what she was doing when they weren’t together. After what she’d been through with Paul, only discovering his secret undercover work after he died, she vowed she would not live like that again.

Helen reminded herself that people screwed up all the time, herself included. Was this just a stupid one-off mistake? Yennefer was almost ten years younger than herself. They were different people. She hadn’t seen the things she’d seen. They hadn't known each other long enough for her to have a right to know where and why she went anywhere. Maybe she didn’t know her that well after all. 

“You look tired,” Yennefer held out her hand with a soft smile. “Why don’t you grab some sleep. I’ll keep watch of the baby.”

Helen shook her head. “You should go. I need to think some things through.”

* * *

  
  


Chief Inspector Gosford was true to his word when he said he’d keep her updated about her case. He phoned her at home that afternoon to let her know that there had been ‘a development’.

Her boss asked after her and the baby and then told her the news.

“Councillor Peter Harcross was arrested for possession of indecent images of children this morning. It hasn’t hit the media yet, I wanted to let you know so that you don’t get surprised by online news. It’s going to be a scandal in Hull at least.”

Helen was gobsmacked. “What? But... how did he get caught?”

“There was a break-in at his house on Sunday night while he was out with his wife for tea. Some electronics were stolen but he didn't file a report at the time. Apparently one of the thieves had a conscience and handed the laptop in to Hull P.D. anonymously when they realised what was on it. Early indication is there are hundreds of images, mainly underage girls, not hidden in a particularly sophisticated manner. There will be a full investigation.”

Helen could barely believe it. Her abuser could actually get done for this! She’d been pessimistic about the chances of conviction in her own case. But even if the crimes against her were never heard in court, others would be and he would at least be forever recognised for the pedophile he was. He might not be jailed but he would be put on a register and monitored for a decade. It would never be enough but it was something.

“Helen, I need to ask you... Is it possible there’s any photos of you? Anything that might corroborate your case that he might have kept?”

“I don’t think so. He never...” Helen sighed. “The only one I know of is a group photo of all of us at a Christmas party at Dad’s work.”

Helen spared a thought for his granddaughter, Aurora Harcross, who she’d met while pursuing an investigation in Polesford. Would she be upset when she found out?

“What about his family?” Helen asked Gosford. “His wife?”

“Mrs Harcross was hospitalised for shock. Says it’s all made up to damage her husband’s reputation.”

“Of course she does,” muttered Helen. She’d never liked the severe woman from the single time she’d met her as a child. Apparently Mrs Harcross had been diagnosed with breast cancer a few years prior and that’s why they’d moved away from Polesford. She didn’t understand it herself but it wasn’t uncommon for wives of abusers to stand by their husbands, out of denial or misplaced loyalty or whatever reason.

After hanging up with her boss, Helen was left with a thousand unanswered questions. Even if Gosford would have been willing to tell her more about it he likely didn’t have the full array of facts yet. She was wild to know everything. If only she was at work, she could’ve accessed the files directly in the database. 

And then she remembered...

Paul had set up a VPN access on her computer so that he could work from home!

Helen slid into the wheelie chair at her computer desk and tapped her foot impatiently as the computer booted up. She connected via the VPN client, cursing herself for  _ nearly _ forgetting the password after being away from work for so long and having to get out her Warrant Card to check her ID number, and logged into the Police National Computer system which held information on all people, vehicles, and properties ever involved in a crime.

It was there in black and white. Harcross’s arrest warrant. 

The page looked the same as thousands of others she’d had reason to look up in the course of her job. But this one meant so much more. This one meant that now the man who abused her would finally be known as a criminal. It meant that she  _ wasn’t _ making it up, she hadn’t been a confused teen with a difficult home life, and she did not misremember or misinterpret a single thing. With a record of possessing child pornography it would not be a stretch for anybody to believe him capable of molesting young girls.

There weren’t many details beyond time-of-arrest and the list of charges. Most of the evidence would be in secure custody of the computer crime department, yet to be trawled through and catalogued for the courts. 

Helen leaned back in her chair and let out a breath of relief. 

Then a thought occurred to her...

Yennefer had been arrested on Sunday night in Hull. The same night that the Harcross residence in Hull had been burgled.

This morning Yennefer had resisted giving a reason for why she’d travelled to Hull over the weekend. Could she have had something to do with the burglary? But why? And how did she know enough about Harcross to pull it off? Granted, Helen had told her some of the details about her abuse after Yennefer found her in the park the day that she had a panic attack after Harcross called her out of the blue. The coincidence nagged at her...

Helen opened a new search in the PNC system. They were only supposed to access records that were necessary for the execution of their work duties. She knew it was wrong to use her access to look up someone she knew personally. But she had to know.

One record came up for the name  _ Yennefer Ophelia Vengerburg. _

Time of arrest 4:21pm Monday.

That was early afternoon, definitely before the time that Harcross’s house would’ve been broken into while the occupants dined out. That meant Yennefer could not have been the thief because she had already been taken to the station and was not released for hours. 

Helen read on. Yennefer had been released without charge because her Blood Alcohol Content reading was below the legal limit when she was formally tested at the station. Her BAC must’ve been a little above 0.08 roadside and then fallen as her body processed the alcohol during the time it took to transport her to the P.D and while they faffed around organising the formal test. The officer on report must’ve dragged her in to teach her a lesson.

The description section of the arrest report caught her eye.

Yennefer was approached by the police officer while sitting in a  _ parked _ car with the engine running. Admittedly it was an offence to be in control of or attempt to drive a vehicle while intoxicated, but it was a relief for Helen to find out that Yennefer had been barely over the limit and hadn’t actually been driving at the time. Maybe she shouldn’t have lectured her so harshly... 

Further, the registration details of the car were not the same as the black BMW that Helen had seen Yennefer drive the first day they’d met. 

Another piece fell into the puzzle that was forming in Helen’s mind.

Yennefer had said she twisted her ankle the  _ first _ night she was in Hull. Her right ankle. She definitely could not have driven with the foot brace on. Maybe she could have taken it off in order to drive, if it wasn’t too painful. But what if she had been with someone else? Someone who drove her around and then back from Hull. Someone who could’ve broken into a house while Yennefer got herself arrested on purpose as an alibi. But who could she have recruited for that? And why would Yennefer have orchestrated all of this?

Her heart whispered that she had done it for her.

Helen grabbed her phone with impatient hands and swiped at the lock screen. She dialled Yennefer’s number.

But it went straight to voicemail.

_ “Hi, this is Yenna. You can leave a message if you want but I’m probably not going to call you back....” _


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy this update! :) xx
> 
> If you're interested, I've also posted the first chapter of my new Yennaia fic called 'Meet me at the barre'.

It had been a few days and Yennefer still hadn’t answered her phone or returned any of her calls. Apparently Yennefer's stubbornness could outlast Helen's patience because at this point she was considering turning up at her house. Even though she only knew the address via less-than-ethical means.

Helen was trying to distract herself by messing around on the computer and ended up getting more distraction than she'd budgeted for. She spent half the day dealing with some family drama over the phone instead.

It started when she decided to sign up for Facebook. She put in as few personal details as she could get away with and promptly friended both her fathers, her sister Jenny, and her close friend Phil. It grated on her that she’d given in to satisfy her hunch but it was a means to an end.

Helen had become suspicious when she learned that her abuser Harcross knew about the birth of her daughter; said he’d seen it online. Unfortunately, as soon as she checked her Dad’s profile page she saw that it was the truth -- her Dad had indeed posted one of the photos he’d taken of mother and baby in the hospital. It wasn’t a bad photograph and he had written a sweet caption celebrating his newest granddaughter… But that wasn’t the point. She’d told everyone in her life upfront that she didn’t want her child’s details on social media.

Helen texted her father and told him not to post anything about her again. She also asked him why Harcross was still his ‘friend and would he mind ‘unfriending’ the man who’d abused his daughter if it wasn’t too much trouble?

Jenny called her in a fit. “Why did you go off on Dad like that! He’s beside himself worrying that you’re pissed at him.”

Helen sighed. “I’m not! I just-”

“It’s only a bloody Facebook photo.”

“You don’t understand, Jen. There’s a reason I wanted to keep everything private.”

“Because you're a control freak! God, Helen, you’re so _paranoid_. People put all sorts online these days. Are you saying I have to pretend like I don’t have a niece, that I can’t post a family photo or mention her name?”

“Yeah, that would be great actually.”

Jen didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. “You know what. You can be a real bully sometimes.”

“A bully?!” Helen cried. “I’m trying to protect my daughter! Someone saw that photo, Jen, a man I know to be a paedophile. How would you feel if it was one of your kids?”

Jen went quiet. “Who was it? Tell me.”

Helen suppressed a sigh, suddenly regretting that she’d said anything. She tried to fob her sister off but there was nothing doing and she’d had to tell her about her childhood abuse investigation. Naturally, Jen burst into indignant tears and berated her from keeping it from her all this time. But she was her little sister, keeping the whole thing as far away from her as possible was the entire point. As a teenager Helen had been cruel to her sister and her friends to keep them at a distance. To protect them from _him_. But it was precisely because she’d succeeded that Jen would never understand what she’d gone through. Not in the way that Linda did.

After getting off the phone with Jen, Helen called her Dad to apologise for her tone and reassure him she wasn’t mad at him. Before she could take a breath someone knocked at the door.

Helen opened the door to let Jen and two of her kids into the flat. The boys pushed past their aunt with a hasty hello and ran straight for Paul’s room to where his PS4 was set up. She tried to smile when Jen threw her arms around her saying, “I am so so so sorry!”

“Me too. Need to breathe. Ow.”

“Sorry,” said Jen, letting her loose and looking her over. “I can’t get used to how big your tits are now. Lucky cow.”

Helen rolled her eyes and wrapped her cardigan around herself. Admonishing her sister would have absolutely no effect, as she well knew. Jen had zero shame in saying exactly what was on her mind. Having birthed three kids she had no reserve about bringing up the realities of motherhood or its effects on the body.

“Where's my niece? I need a cuddle.”

Helen nodded towards her bedroom where the baby was napping. "You might not want to. She's got a cold."

Jenny waved it off. "Oh pish. Let me at her."

The opportunity for unexpected childminding gave Helen an idea. After the drama today she decided her sister clearly owed her a favour. She grabbed her coat, wallet, and car keys while Jenny was distracted and headed for the door.

Helen called out. "Jen, I'm going to pop round to a friend's place."

"But I just got here!" said Jen.

"I know. Text me when the baby wakes up. Thanks!"

* * *

Helen parked her Golf on the street and double checked the address on her phone to make sure she had the right place. Yennnefer's house was a two-storey bungalow with a landscaped cottage garden out front. It was the kind of place she used to want to buy with Paul if they would've been able to afford it, but she certainly couldn't now that she was single.

There was a car in the driveway, it was not Yennefer's black BMW but it had the same reg number that was on the DUI police report. Definitely the right house then. And apparently the accomplice was here too.

When Helen knocked on the door there was no answer for a minute or two. Finally, it was opened but not by Yennefer.

It was a pretty young woman, probably about Yennefer's age or younger, with long straight blonde hair in a fishtail plait and she was wearing a business suit and -- Helen tried not to notice -- a blouse belying a substantial amount of cleavage that was certainly not a result of breastfeeding an infant.

"Does Yennefer live here?" asked Helen.

"She resides here, yes. Living is a bit of a stretch.” The blonde looked her up and down. ”You’re short. Are you the love of her life?"

"Um… I'm Helen, a friend."

The blonde snorted. "'Friend _'_. Whatever. Yenna never stops going on about you. It's disgusting really. Hope I never catch feelings. You’re not going to turn out to be straight and break her heart are you?"

“No.” Helen frowned, wary of the impression she was getting. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"I’m also a friend of Yenna's. She may have referred to me as Sabrina the Teenage Bitch instead of Sabrina ‘the One Who’s Always Bailing her Arse out of Trouble’ Glevissig. We were in school together. I stay here sometimes to make sure she's still alive."

"...Right. Do you think you could tell Yennefer I'm here?"

"Nope." Sabrina stepped back and held the door as an invitation to enter. "Come in. She's upstairs in her bedroom. Pain's bad today."

That worried Helen. "Is she alright?"

Sabrina shrugged. "Go on up, see for yourself. Second bedroom on the left. I've got a brief to write for tomorrow because my boss is an incompetent arsehole."

_Wait a minute,_ thought Helen. _Someone employed this woman… as a lawyer?!_

The inside of Yennefer's house was even more impressive than the outside. Inside had been fully renovated into an open plan where the lounge room connected seamlessly to the dining room and a modern kitchen with a floating stone bench. The polished wooden floors shone. Across from the fireplace sat a U-shape arrangement of lounges and armchairs resting on a large textured rug. 

_Posh,_ thought Helen, looking around. Everything was elegantly decked out in blacks, whites, creams, and slate grey. It seemed that Yennefer's sense of interior design was as allergic to colours as her wardrobe style was and just as expensive.

Helen made her way upstairs to where there were several bedrooms. Only the second door on the left was wide open. Inside, Yennefer was curled up atop the duvet of a large king bed. She was either asleep or resting with her eyes closed. On the bedside table there was a box of tissues, a novel cracked at the spine, a glass of water, and a blister packet of pills. The black foot brace was lying discarded on the floor where it had been tossed along with a TENS unit and hot water bottle.

In sleep Yennefer looked… young, much more vulnerable than she seemed in consciousness. A woolen throw was twisted around her bare legs and all she wore on top was a black camisole. Helen had never seen that much of her light brown skin before, and of course, every inch looked perfect and soft. Every time she’d seen Yennefer in the past she was covered from ankle to wrist. 

Helen observed for a few moments and then saw her move in a way that made her realise she wasn’t asleep. She knelt down next to the bed and whispered. “Yennefer? It’s me.”

Yennefer roused but didn’t open her eyes. “T’ssaia?”

“It’s Helen. How are you feeling? Is there anything I can get you?”

“Mmm, just you.”

They both smiled in unison. Yennefer's eyes fluttered open and Helen's heart skipped a beat at how beautiful she looked barefaced. She’d yearned to be able to see it every morning and cursed herself for pushing this amazing woman away when all she wanted was nothing more than to be close to her. Hopefully she hadn't screwed up her chances and ruined this relationship before it had even gotten off the ground. It would serve her right if she had.

“I came to apologise for the way I spoke to you yesterday," said Helen. "I shouldn’t have lectured you like that. Sorry for the way it left things between us.”

“It’s alright,” Yennefer waved it off. “I’ve had worse bollockings. You were right as usual. And you were tired from being up all night with a sick baby.”

“No, it was … The truth is I was scared. I thought you were lying to me.”

“And now?”

“I have a theory,” Helen began. “I think you and a friend, probably Sabrina, went to Hull with a specific purpose in mind and it wasn’t business or partying. After you got arrested for being tipsy in a parked car, a burglary was taking place a few streets away at the house of the man who abused me. The stolen items were recovered, resulting in evidence coming to light that could help my CSA investigation. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Yennefer’s face was an innocent mask but not a believable one. Infuriatingly, instead of answering, she responded with a question of her own. “Do you believe in coincidences?”

“I think life is just random events, one after another. But when things seem too good to be true they usually are.”

“Do you think it’s a coincidence that we met?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“It just is!”

“Well, maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Just like my trip to Hull. The most unbelievable part of your theory is me and Sabrina agreeing on something long enough to accomplish a goal.”

“Please," said Helen, dropping her voice low. "I need to know. I need you to tell me the truth.”

Yennefer sighed and pressed her lips together. She reached out to take one of Helen’s hands to hold in her own, and as always, a current ran between them at the touch. “You’re still a cop. I don't want to lie but I can’t tell you what you want to hear. All I can say is that you deserve to feel safe and that bastard deserves to pay for what he did. If someone decided to grease the wheels of justice a little then I wouldn’t blame them. I would’ve done it myself if I didn’t have a conveniently solid alibi. I’d have to be a cunning genius to organise something like that.” 

The little shit could hardly contain her grin at this point.

Helen was torn between relief and dismay. “I knew it!” she hissed. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“I just told you I didn’t do anything!” Yennefer's indignance was even less believable when paired with the mirth in her eyes.

“Why," said Helen, entreating her with plaintive eyes. "Why did you put yourself at risk like this?”

“You know why. If you think hard and remember, you'll know.”

Helen's throat went dry and her heart started to race. _What did she mean by that?_

But Yennefer didn't say anything more, she just held her gaze and reached out to push the coat of her shoulders and then gently pulled her to lay down with her. They lay pressed up against each other because Yennefer barely scooted back a few inches before wrapping her in her arms. Her body was so warm.

Helen closed her eyes and breathed in. "You always smell so good. I didn’t get a chance to tell you how much I missed you when you were away."

Yennefer’s lips pursed into a smile. “Well, I didn’t miss you, not even slightly. I certainly wasn’t thinking of you the whole time I was in that shit town.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmhm.”

Helen arched an eyebrow. “I suppose you wouldn’t want a kiss then?” 

“Well...” Yennefer licked her lips and her eyes shot down for a second. She inched closer. “Maybe. Do you have any idea how stupidly pretty your face is?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Not true. I’m adorable.”

One of them giggled -- Helen wasn’t sure whether it was her -- and then Yennefer closed the remaining distance between them and kissed her. It was so soft her eyes slipped closed and she practically melted into it. She felt Yennefer flick her tongue across her bottom lip and opened her mouth to let her deepen the kiss. Helen brought her hand up to cup Yennefer’s face and pushed her fingers into her silky hair to keep her from pulling away just yet. She moaned as Yennefer’s tongue slipped hotly into her mouth. 

They kissed deeply, until Helen was arching against her wanting more contact. It was the first time she’d felt truly turned on since before giving birth. Her body was reminding her loudly just how long it had been. Most of when she’d been pregnant with a raging libido her relationship with Paul had been in tatters and she’d spent months having to take care of herself or end up practically crying out of sexual frustration. Now she was simultaneously touched-out from constantly holding a baby and touch-starved for sexual intimacy.

One of Yennefer’s hands strayed higher from where she’d been massaging her waist. Suddenly Helen realised her breasts were tingling in a particular way and starting to leak into her bra. Letdown. And that brought her back to reality… which was that the bedroom door was open, Sabrina was downstairs within earshot, and her baby was at home expecting to be fed soon.

Helen broke the kiss and pulled back muttering. “Sorry. I um-”

“Yeah, that was. Wow.” Yennefer was out of breath, letting her head drop back to the pillow. “Is everything okay?” 

“I’m fine. The baby’s due for a feed and...” Chagrined, Helen gestured to her shirt where it now had a wet spot and pulled her cardigan over it. “I’ll have to leave soon.”

“Oh. Well, it’s a good thing we stopped then. I can’t believe you’re in my bed for the first time and I’m not even wearing anything sexy.”

Helen grumbled. “At least your tits aren’t betraying you.”

“Hey, I happen to quite like them. In fact I'd love to get to know them better.”

“Don’t get too attached. They’re on temporary loan only and will probably deflate after I finish breastfeeding.”

“Whatever,” Yennefer scoffed. “They were nice before and they're nice now. My statement stands.”

Helen’s eyebrows furrowed, confused to hear her referring to her like she’d known her for much longer than she really had. “How do you know? You never saw me before I had the baby, let alone before I was pregnant.”

Yennefer just stared at her, as though she were expecting her to say more or figure something out. Or perhaps to call her out on something she couldn’t possibly have known.

But then Helen’s phone chimed with a new text message and she pulled the device from the back pocket of her jeans. Sure enough it was from Jen, saying that the baby was just about to wake up.

Seconds later, an image came through of a tiny screwed up face who did _not_ look happy.

“Shit. I really have to go.”

* * *

It wasn't until Helen got home and fed the baby that her mind could concentrate on anything else. But when she did she realised something she'd seen as she'd left. Yennefer had waved goodbye and her exposed wrist had two tell-tale scars across it. 

Unfortunately it wasn't a huge shock that at some point in the past Yennefer had tried to take her own life. The real shock was that it was just like in a dream Helen had had not long after they'd met.

Why had Helen dreamed about it before she'd even known? And why would she dream that she was the one who'd saved her? In real life it certainly hadn’t been her… that was impossible. But she could still see the image of Yennefer bleeding out on the floor in her mind and panicked at the thought of not getting to her quickly enough. The memory of the dream felt as tangible as the coppery smell of blood in the air.

It bothered her. Helen didn't believe in coincidences any more than she believed in prophetic dreams. 

She was falling for Yennefer and wanted to get to know everything about her. But the nagging feeling she got sometimes was that, somehow, somewhere, she'd known her before.

  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Enjoy :)x

Things were finally starting to feel ok in her life which was why the text from her late partner's mother threw Helen for a loop.

Paul's mother had never approved of Helen and although she rarely expressed her criticisms explicitly she made enough "innocent comments" that everyone knew her opinion on the matter. Paul had always tried to make peace but he tended to let his mother go unchecked.

The text message was abrupt as ever: Paul's father and brother would be driving up to Manchester that day to collect his belongings and his car. 

Helen's first instinct was to refuse. As Paul's de facto partner she had every right to do so. But she acquiesced, reluctant to cause a fight with a grieving mother over a mountain bike and a couple of childhood football trophies. 

When they turned up she couldn't help noticing Paul's brother Ian sending her dirty looks in between packing boxes. Apparently Paul had confided in his brother about Helen's affair and now all the Hopkinses were convinced the baby wasn't Paul's and that she was an adulterous slag. As far as they were concerned, the family was no longer connected to her and they didn’t want anything to do with the baby. 

It wasn’t just the slight to her daughter that infuriated Helen, it was her absolute certainty that _this_ was not what Paul would’ve wanted and his own family should’ve bloody well known that.

Helen slammed the door after they left. Ignoring the temptation to tidy up the mess they left in the spare room she went to her bedroom, lifted the baby from her cot, and laid down on the bed covers to watch her precious daughter sleep.

* * *

  
  


It was nearly lunchtime when Yennefer’s first text of the day arrived.

**Yennefer:** Hey gorgeous! Can I take you out for tea tonight? I know a nice place

**Helen:** Today’s not good. Can we do it another day? 

**Yennefer:** Yeah. Of course

Helen felt like complete crap for saying no. Her mood was already low from dealing with the Hopkins family that morning. Disappointing Yennefer weighed even more heavily on her. She really did want to see her and it would’ve been great to spend time with her outside the house for once. But the baby was still clingy, having only recently recovered from a cold, and Helen didn’t want to have to leave her for hours at a time. Neither of them were ready for that yet.

A few hours later another text came through:

**[Unknown]:** This is Sabrina. It’s Yennefer’s birthday tomorrow. Thought you might want to know cos the mopey bitch probably won’t tell you herself.

That kicked Helen’s drive into action. Yennefer should not have to spend her birthday alone because of her shitty self-indulgent mood. Pity party-time was over. Helen picked up her phone and tapped the top contact in her Recents list. It rang enough times to make her nervous that she wasn’t going to answer.

“Hey,” said Yennefer. “It’s my second favourite redhead.”

Helen blurted out, “Can we still go out tonight?” 

“Have you changed your mind then?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I… was stupid. Overthinking everything. I’ll ring my sister to see if she can mind the baby. She’ll be fine without me for a little while. I think.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to go out, because you didn’t want to leave her?" Yennefer chuckled. "You should've told me. The baby’s coming with us. I called the restaurant and they've given us a table out of the way and they're fine with us bringing in the pram or whatever. I made the booking for 6pm so we won't be too late getting back home.”

Helen was speechless that Yennefer had gone to all that trouble pre-empting her worries like that. God, why hadn’t she just been honest from the start.

Yennefer must’ve second-guessed her silence. “I can cancel if that’s not okay.” 

“No! It’s- you’re perfect.”

“Hardly. You’re perfect.”

Helen groaned. “How nice is this place. What do I wear?”

“Whatever you like. Dress Piggles in something cute.”

* * *

  
  


As soon as Helen hung up she went to her wardrobe and realised she had nothing nice to wear. 

Knowing Yennefer's penchant for elegance, she did not take her word on the dress code seriously. Her old going out clothes were either too casual or too tight in the bust and her maternity clothes swamped her body now. The stretchy black dress she'd bought for going out while pregnant might've been an option if belted… until she remembered last putting it on for Paul's funeral. She balled it up and threw it into the corner of the room.

It was half five and Helen was still rushing around the flat in her nursing bra and pants. She packed the nappy bag, fed and changed the baby, and then dressed her in a darling little outfit of white tights and a knitted lilac dress with a matching cap. Getting herself ready was next. She smoothed her hair up into an ibis clip (since it had grown out of her usual chin-length chop) and was putting on some makeup when she heard Yennefer knock.

"Come in!" Helen ran out to call through the front door and then disappeared into her bedroom to finish dressing. "I'm nearly ready I promise."

Yennefer's teasing voice came from the living room. "This is new. I've never known you to be late for anything before."

Helen huffed. "Yeah well, babies change everything."

Wardrobe search continued until … _Aha! That'll do._ Helen spied a navy blouse she'd forgotten about and slipped it off the hanger. It was sheer so she'd have to wear the black camisole underneath it, which would unfortunately mean having to get half undressed in the restaurant bathroom should the baby need to be fed while they were there. But it was nice and - thank god - it was loose fitted. She pulled on her black dress trousers and grabbed some heeled boots so that Yennefer wouldn't dwarf her.

She overheard Yennefer talking to the baby.

"... most of them look like ugly little old men but you are the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. (The baby cooed.) I know! I quite agree. Mummy's gorgeous isn't she? She is a bit of a nutter though. It's weird to see her actually emoting her anxieties instead of bottling them up for five centuries…"

Puzzled, Helen went into the living room but her words of protest died in her throat when she saw her.

Yennefer looked simply stunning. The natural beauty of her eyes was enhanced by smokey eye shadow and glossy black curls were falling over her shoulders. She wore a black cocktail dress with straps so thin they may as well not be there and knee-length high-heeled black leather boots. (Obviously she was no longer concerned about her twisted ankle.) She was cradling a tiny bundle, swaying from side to side.

When Yennefer looked up her face broke into a smile. "You've put your hair up."

Helen pressed her lips together. "Yes. It’s free of spit-up for once. I suspect someone will soon be developing a habit for grabbing at things, including my hair."

"Sorry. I'll try to refrain," joked Yennefer .

"If you're good to me maybe I'll allow it," Helen teased her back.

Yenenfer had driven her BMW over, and it did have a newly installed baby seat, but they crammed themselves into Helen's Golf to drive to the restaurant because the pram was already stored in the boot. When they arrived, Helen extracted the pram and unfolded it while Yennefer held the baby, insisting that the little one be bundled up in not one blanket but two for the short walk. Only the baby’s eyes and knit cap were poking out.

“Do you want to put her in the pram,” said Helen.

“Nope, she’s mine now and I’m never giving her back,” said Yennefer. “Aren’t you, sweet thing.” She kissed the baby’s cap and then looped her free arm around Helen’s elbow while Helen pushed the empty pram. It was dark and the ground was wet but it had stopped raining.

“We’re late,” said Helen, who still didn’t know where they were going. “Will they have given our reservation away?”

“We’re not that late. Calm down.”

“So where is this place?”

“Not far,” said Yennefer, providing no further details. “You’re really not good with surprises are you? You look nice by the way... Nice coat. Nice shoes. Nice everything. And I do mean _everything_.”

“Nice attempt to distract me,” Helen said wryly.

“It worked. We’re here.”

They reached a brick shopfront sandwiched between buildings that must’ve been warehouses in a previous lifetime. There was no signage indicating the restaurant’s name. Twinkle lights were visible through the frosted glass door. It was warm and moodlit inside when they entered. The tables were spaced apart instead of crowded and the atmosphere hinted at class without pretension. Definitely a step up from a pub. 

They were greeted and shown to their table by a mid-aged woman who smiled genuinely at the couple and the baby. Their table was out of the way, as promised, and it even looked like neighbouring chairs had been moved so that there would be room to park the pram next to it. Yennefer laid the nodding-off baby into the pram and covered the opening with a blanket. Then she took Helen’s coat and her own and hung them up. Once they were seated side-by-side, the waitress handed them menus and a wine list and left.

Helen eyed the menus’ lack of prices suspiciously. “You didn’t tell me we were going someplace _fancy_.”

Yennefer replied, “To be fair, I didn’t tell you anything.”

“Exactly.”

Yennefer kept her eyes on the wine list and turned a page. “I’m immune to your withering glares, you know.”

The waitress came back to take their drink orders. At first Yennefer declined anything alcoholic, but Helen saw her looking longingly at the wine list and guessed that she was probably thinking back to their argument over drink driving. Helen leaned over and whispered into her ear, _for the love of god, get your Chardonnay so that I can steal half a glass without looking like a bad mother._

Once the wine was delivered and the water poured, Helen raised her tumbler to clink Yennefer’s wine glass. “A little birdy told me it’s your birthday tomorrow.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes and muttered. “Fucking Sabrina. I wish she’d learn to mind her own business.”

“You didn’t want me to know?” asked Helen.

“I don’t want to make a thing of it.” Yennefer shrugged it off unconvincingly. “I dislike my birthday. It reminds me of the fact that I was born and it reminds me of my shitty family.”

“Well, I'm glad you were born but I'll do my best to take your mind off it if you like. Want to hear the shitty family thing that happened to us this morning?”

Yennefer nodded, so Helen told her about Mrs Hopkins’s ‘request’ to collect Paul’s things and how she and the baby had been cut out of their lives. It felt good to talk to someone about it, and seeing the look on Yennefer’s face that grew more horrified as she told her everything was validating. By the end of it Yennefer was riled up on her behalf. 

“I know how it feels to be abandoned by family and it’s fucking shit.” Yennefer shook her head and looked down at where hers and Helen’s hand were enjoined in her lap. “I’m sorry, I can’t believe they would do that to you and the baby. You know what, fuck them! It’s their loss. If I was ever lucky enough to have you both I’d …”

Helen frowned at the self-deprecation and reached out to cup Yennefer’s face. “Hey,” she said softly. “You have us. You do.”

Yennefer gave her a half-smile but didn’t look convinced and before they could talk more, their entrees arrived. With the addition of food Yennefer lightened up, especially when Helen started stealing bites from her plate and reaching for sips of her wine glass. Yennefer had small stacks of succulent pork belly and Helen had sauteed button mushrooms. The food was amazing and they still had two courses to go.

As they talked over dinner, they barely noticed anything but each other. They covered a wide range of topics and personal stories, from stupid things Helen had witnessed criminals do at work to school shenanigans Yennefer had gotten up to with Triss and or Sabrina. After their mains arrived, the restaurant lighting dimmed and it became even more intimate. 

"Do you know what I hate about fancy restaurants." Helen spoke in a low voice as she leaned in close. Yennefer looked at her with her head tilted, dark expressive eyes and a wry smile.

"What."

"When they turn the lights down so low that you can't bloody see what you're eating!"

Yennefer chuckled. "Not a fan of eating out in the dark?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Helen felt her face heat up. "I'm well aware that you use sexual innuendo to get a rise out of me."

"Would I do that? More importantly, is it working?"

Helen pretended annoyance. "No."

"You know what I love about restaurants," said Yennefer, eyes glittering like coals and mischief.

"What."

"When they turn the lights down low and I can do this…" Yennefer leaned over and captured Helen's lips in a soft slow kiss. She tasted sweet like the wine. It wasn't exactly chaste the way Yennefer sucked on her bottom lip as she drew away. Helen’s stomach swooped at the promise behind it and the realisation that she suddenly wished they weren’t in public at all so that they could take things further.

Mood lighting indeed.

It was barely 8:30 by the time they'd finished their meals but the baby began to wake and make fussy noises signaling the end of the date. Yennefer snuck off to settle the bill, leaving Helen to collect their coats and manoeuvre the pram towards the front entrance.

Once they got back to the flat, Yennefer collected the grizzly baby from the car seat and soothed her with nonsense talk while they took the lift. Helen unlocked the door and let them inside. She'd decided to leave the pram in the car tonight, since it was too cold to faff about with it in the garage at this time of night.

Helen went into her bedroom to change into her pyjama shirt for easy access. When she returned Yennefer handed her the baby, who was already changed and dressed in a sleeper, so that she could feed her before putting her down for the night. 

"Here you go, sweetheart, Mummy's got the goods. Brew?" asked Yennefer.

"Tea would be lovely," said Helen.

Yennefer headed to the kitchen. “Real tea? Or do you want your decaf shit.”

“Decaf shit.”

After the baby was down, Helen left the bedroom with the door half-open and joined Yennefer, who was sitting with her bare feet tucked underneath her on the living room couch. A hot mug of tea waited on the side table. She picked it up and sank back into her seat. They sat comfortably together in mutual silence for a while, neither wanting the night to end. As Helen sipped her tea, Yennefer played with her short locks after freeing them from the clip and she tried not to keen so obviously under the pleasant ministrations.

"There are things I miss so much that motherhood has completely ruined," Helen complained goodnaturedly.

"Like what," said Yennefer.

"Caffeine. Alcohol. Having a waist."

"As far as I can tell, you haven't entirely given up on any of those."

Helen set her cup down so that she could scoot closer. Yennefer opened her arms to wrap her up and Helen sighed at the exquisite comfort of it. "Thank you for tonight."

"I wanted to take you on a proper first date," said Yennefer, leaning her chin on Helen's head.

"I know, but thanks for understanding about the baby and everything. It means a lot to me. Most people wouldn't want a baby tagging along on their date."

"Most people are boring."

Whatever Yennefer was she certainly was not boring. Helen wanted to say more, she wanted to tell Yennefer how necessary she'd become in her daily life and how much she loved the care she took with not only her but her daughter. Sometimes Helen was overwhelmed by how deep her feelings for Yennefer had already grown and how much more she wanted from her. 

"I should go and let you get some proper sleep," said Yennefer reluctantly, the same thing she said every night before leaving. But neither of them made a move to get up, and since Helen was practically lying on top of her, Yennefer couldn't.

"You know what I miss most," said Helen softly. "You. Every night when you leave, I have to go to bed alone."

Yennefer sighed. "You have no idea how hard it is for me to tear myself away from you. Tonight especially. I can't make myself leave."

"Then stay." Helen’s heart began to beat faster, realising what she’d just asked.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait for an update! Hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm really happy with the way it turned out. We finally get some answers about how their modern and past lives are connected. Thanks for reading :)x
> 
> (Rating increase for this chapter)

"Don't go. Stay over tonight," said Helen.

"Are you sure?" asked Yennefer. They both knew the question was about more than just spending the night together.

Helen turned in Yennefer's arms so that she could look into her eyes, which were darkened and hard as quartz. The air between them was charged with tension, both were holding back and waiting for the other to make the first move. They'd been exchanging heated looks and stealing sly touches throughout their date but now there was no-one watching and there was no need to keep things chaste.

Helen nodded, letting her eyes drop to Yennefer's lips. Her voice was huskier than usual. "I want you to stay, have sex with me, and then hold me until I fall asleep."

In an instant Yennefer kissed her like she'd been dying to do so for years. It was hurried and hot the way she sucked at Helen's bottom lip and pressed more firmly to get her to open her mouth for her. Helen gasped and Yennefer took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. The taste of the raspberry sorbet they'd shared for dessert was still on her lips. Not long later Yennefer slid further down to lay back and pulled Helen up until she was draped on top of her.

If Helen had been frustrated most of the night by her own body's reaction to the proximity of Yennefer's goddess-like figure and teasing glances, it was nothing to the desire that was building inside her now. Her body called out loudly for more contact, more friction, more movement. Yennefer's hands were everywhere, massaging her hair at the back of her neck and caressing the bare skin at her lower back where her shirt had ridden up. But she wanted more.

When Yennefer bent her knee and pushed it between her legs her thigh pressed firmly into her centre for the first time.

"Oh, fuck," Helen gasped. She burrowed her face into Yennefer's shoulder as they began to rock their bodies together. But of course Yennefer made her fucking wait before finally giving it to her again the way she was craving. Every now and again she urged her to go harder.

"This okay?" Yennefer asked to check in.

Helen nodded, out of breath and panting hot against her neck. "Yeah."

"You feel so good. Can I?"

It took a second to realise that Yennefer's hand was grasping her shirt hem and she was asking permission to take it off. Instead of answering, Helen sat back, straddling Yennefer and pulled her own shirt over her head revealing her bare torso. Of course Yennefer had seen her pull her shirt down to feed the baby and there was that time she’d had to help her untangle her clothes in a bathroom at Marks & Spencer, but this was different. She wanted to feel sexual. She wanted to see that her body was still desirable in another’s eyes. 

Yennefer stared, taking in the new sight hungrily. Then reached her arms out for her. 

Instead of falling forward into them, Helen pulled Yennefer upright and then tugged at the cocktail dress that had ridden up and pooled around Yennefer's waist. “You too,” she insisted, pushing the bunched fabric up and over raised arms. Yennefer wore no bra so their bare chests brushed against each other's. Her skin was impossibly soft and smooth and flushed with heat from their exertions.

Their mouths met again. Helen slid her tongue inside Yennefer's mouth and at the same time Yennefer pulled Helen's legs so that they were wrapped around her and then tipped her backwards.

"Mmph." They both laughed into the kiss as Helen fell back and settled with Yennefer lying atop her between her legs. The weight pinning her hips down felt amazing.

"Do you want to move this to bed?" A breathless Helen broke the kiss to ask.

"Nuh uh," Yennefer declined, mouthed at her neck sending a shiver down her spine. "Baby’s asleep in there. I want to hear you. I want to take you right here on this couch."

"What do you want to do to me."

"Everything." Then Yennefer started describing details in her ear of positions and obscene things she wanted to do to her.

Hearing the ways she wanted to fuck her and be fucked by her was driving Helen crazy with want. She was already past the point of being ready. When Yennefer moved down her body and swirled her tongue around one of her nipples her entire body jerked at the wet contact. She'd always been sensitive but this was making her whole body ache with desire.

"God yes," she moaned, as Yennefer's mouth closed over her hardened nipple sucking gently and used her thumb to circle the other one. 

She was absolutely throbbing with need now.

"Yennefer...

"I need you to touch me... 

"Yen-  _ please. _ "

At this point she was practically begging to be fucked and didn't care. She couldn't wait any longer. Her body was taut with built-up tension and months of frustration.

“I will. Be patient.” Yennefer looked up at her, teasing eyes full of pure desire and determination to do things her way, and then slid Helen's pants down her legs. She leaned down to kiss and suck and spread wet streaks over her stomach and then trailed her hand up her inner thigh which trembled slightly under her fingers.

At the first soft touch of her slick centre, Helen's hips bucked and she tried to suppress a whimper. But Yennefer seemed determined to drag reactions out of her, slipping her fingers through her wetness and brushing her lightly with her thumb. In fact, she seemed to delight in whatever noises she made.

"You're so beautiful like this,” Yennefer groaned, mouth wet against her tummy. “I can't wait to see you come for me."

“Need you inside. Now,” Helen pleaded, figuring that she’d have to be specific about what she wanted or Yennefer would keep her on the edge forever.

She stroked her in a slow rhythm and Helen moved against her trying to get her to go faster. But Yennefer remained stubbornly in control and held back until she was ready to let her have it. Her fingers circled her clit and then finally she pushed two fingers firmly inside her. The sweet torture of it built to its peak.

"Uh Yen-!" Helen whimpered and tightened her arms around Yennefer's back. "Yes yes yes."

"That's it, babe. Good girl."

Helen let out a loud moan. Arching until the tension in her body was about to snap. Yennefer withdrew slightly and then pushed inside her again which she met by raising her hips.

"Keep going," Yennefer whispered. "Take what you need. You feel so good tightening around my fingers."

Finally, Yennefer was fucking her firm and fast now, finding just the right spot. Helen's eyes closed tight and her head tipped back. She needed to come so badly. She was close.

"Ohhh fuck. Yen-  _ oh _ !" Her mouth fell open and she cried out as her body jerked and shuddered in Yennefer's arms. Pleasure rolled through her in waves, exquisite bliss that she hadn't had in so long. Yennefer held her until the last spasms subsided, let her body take the comfort it needed from her. She didn't withdraw from her too early.

Helen let out of a breath and relaxed. 

The moments after were bliss punctuated by the occasional aftershock.

It was a relief to know that her body could still do this after childbirth and after grief, even if things weren’t exactly the same. Her well-meaning doctor, knowing of her recent loss, hadn’t even given her the official all-clear for sex at 6 weeks. The books and websites all said it would be fine -- eventually -- and it was a relief to know that things  _ were _ fine. She could have this again, and with another woman. There was an overwhelming feeling that she was safe with Yennefer.

“Shit! I forgot.” Yennefer said suddenly from where she’d been lying on Helen’s chest. 

“What,” Helen mumbled, unable to rise to any alarm.

“You've only just had a baby. I didn't exactly fuck you gently. You're not hurt are you?”

“I’m fine.” Helen smiled with her eyes closed. “ _ Really _ fine. Did it look like I wasn’t.”

“You looked fucking hot actually.”

“I’ll return the favour... when I can move.”

"Not tonight," said Yennefer. Helen made a noise of protest but Yennefer raised her head to lean up and kiss her gently. “You can have me in the morning, babe. Come to bed before you fall asleep there and get cold.”

As promised Yennefer held Helen in her arms until she fell asleep. There was no insomnia for her that night, there was only one last dream.

* * *

  
  


Rectoress Tissaia de Vries, who could feel tiny ripples in chaos halfway across the Continent, did not need to search hard to find the intruder. Her prey wasn't bothering to cloak her magical signature which was recognisable the second it appeared suddenly on the island of Thanedd. Until recently, Tissaia feared never feeling that particular magical trace again... yet here it was, come right to her.

_ Yennefer! _

Tissaia had travelled back many times to search the scorched surrounds of Sodden Hill. The battle ended weeks ago and tiny green shoots had begun to poke through the blackened fields. But there had been no trace of the saviour mage who disappeared and then apparently rose from the ashes there. 

Now Yennefer was at Tor Lara because of course she bloody was! Where else would the world's most chaotic mage go, after surviving the unsurvivable, but to the most dangerous unstable ruin known to magic?

_ How  _ _ dare _ _ she! How dare she disappear from the battlefield, leaving us all to wonder whether she was dead or alive, and then turn up like this after weeks of nothing… How could she leave us not knowing whether to mourn her, when she had been alive the whole damn time. _

Tissaia was not sure if she had ever been more angry at her former protegee. 

She entered the ante room of Tor Lara and stopped, hands clasped at her front. "You're alive I see," she said flatly.

"Alive is a relative term." Yennefer didn't look towards her, she merely gazed at the lines of runes looping around the gate which had been carved by elves long ago. The stone wall seemed to hum at her proximity. The unpredictable mage was sitting far too close to it for Tissaia’s comfort.

"You could have deigned to inform us of your survival."

"I didn't see the point. I don't see much of anything these days."

Tissaia's stomach dropped to the floor as she realised Yennefer wasn't avoiding eye contact nor was she reading the runes. She was feeling them with chaos because she couldn't see. Her beautiful amethyst eyes were now cloudy and sightless, the skin surrounding them an inflamed angry red. Magical wounds that were yet to be treated.

"You’re blind... You must know that I can fix such ailments. Why did you delay in coming to me?" asked Tissaia.

Instead of answering, Yennefer posed her own question. "Do you think there's a point to life?” Hearing no reply she went on to elaborate in a bored monotone. “You're born, the world is cruel, then you die. Or you don't and the world is doubly cruel when you return.” 

“Yennefer,” Tissaia stressed her name, hoping to get through to her. “You accomplished an extraordinary feat at the Battle of Sodden."

Yennefer shrugged a shoulder. “You’ve said it yourself: ‘If I died, nobody would blink’. I now know it's true. Everything is corrupt... the Brotherhood, the Council, every Kingdom and Empire on the Continent... All of it. Nothing is real. Especially not anything gotten by magic. All of it went on without me. So what’s the point."

Tissaia strode towards her but stopped before she got too close. Her hands fell into fists at her sides. "You are the most infuriating mage I have ever known! You got everything you wanted: beauty, power, adoration, not to mention your preferred position at Aedirn's court, and it  _ still _ wasn't enough for you. I don't understand why.”

Finally, Yennefer’s temper flared and she snapped back at her. "You taught me how to harness all this power and for what? If it was up to you I'd still be wasting my life hushing up political scandals and making a career built on lies, just like yours."

"I suppose you'd rather waste yourself on motherhood instead."

"Yes! It's what I want."

"It's what you think you want. But what if that's not enough for you either? Your Witcher friend knows what it is like to be a child of a sorceress who failed at motherhood. No-one can have everything. Do you think that I make the decision mindlessly to sterilise young girls against their wills? I do not."

Yennefer sighed, a sign that said she was tired of life. She reached out her palm as if to caress the stone wall but it was out of her reach. "I want something real. I want someone to love who can actually love me back."

"You can have that. You can."

"No, I can't!” cried Yennefer. “I've tried, they only loved my power or my beauty but not me. None of them could've loved who I was before I ascended. I’ve walked this earth for over a century, if someone like that existed for me I should’ve found them by now."

_ I'm right here! _ Tissaia's heart began to pound. Now was her chance. This moment was her opportunity. She should confess her feelings for Yennefer as she'd promised herself the night before the battle at Sodden. But the fear of rejection, of having it thrown back in her face just like her peace offering had been in Rinde, closed around her like an iron fist. Yennefer wanted to be loved and she was. But for Tissaia there was no hint that her love was returned. In her mind Yennefer had spared her a fiery death because of their history, nothing more. She’d saved her once so Yennefer had repaid the favour. It was transactional, not love. And now they were even.

“I keep ending up back here for some reason…” said Yennefer. After all, Tor Lara was the location of her conduit moment. She turned her face upwards as though to look around the cavernous ante room and then settled for staring sightlessly in Tissaia’s direction.

“I found your research in your desk,” Yennefer went on. “Despite your sneering you've been looking into fertility cures, even the ones you think are quackery. You told me the night before the battle that you found something promising. What you neglected to tell me was that the answer I've been looking for lies beyond Tor Lara.”

"I told you it is the slimmest of chances," said Tissaia, annoyed. "You’d sooner be torn apart, atom by atom. The gate is unstable.”

“But the gate leads to other worlds… Places where my dreams might be possible.” 

“No." Tissaia shook her head. "There is nought but death beyond that gate. No-one has ever survived going near it.”

“That we know of. Besides, I have nothing left to lose.”

“You have yourself. Stay here at Aretuza with me. Please.”

Tissaia held out her hand. It was shaking.

Yennefer's face softened as she stood up, then took the proffered hand and held it tight. As always, whenever they touched, their chaos crashed into each other like opposing waves. Their arms were stretched out between them, as though each was trying to pull the other towards her side in a tug-o-war. Tissaia clasped her hand and started to draw her away from the humming stone wall. Her mistake was to let her guard down.

“Is the great Tissaia de Vries too afraid to tell me the truth?” Yennefer whispered, stared sightlessly through to her soul. “I can feel it in your chaos."

"What do you want from me."

"I saved your life at the Battle of Sodden… shall I call the Law of Surprise? Give me that which you can have that I can not.”

Tissaia’s fine brows knitted. “I can’t give you that.”

“Yes, you can. And since you are so loathe for us to part, you must come with me.”

Before Tissaia could object or say anything further to convince her against this madness, Yennefer yanked her into her arms and they both fell through the portal...

...and disappeared, leaving no trace of their exit from the only world they'd ever known.


End file.
